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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Madness exuded like the war cries of epic battles and sagas' past, the myth of man and the passionate woman. As the eruption began to procure its preparations, Prince Alarumdives, a moment with the King, solace, questioning divinity. "My father, what troubles plague us? The trumpets do sound, do us not, impede decision, for moment's wisdom, pray we gather and bring forth a judgement non-grievous." "Alarumdives, Alarumdives. . . why we struggle; and endure, our precious privy, our passion, our victorious role, a maddening hysteria, turmoil, envy? Malice? These perilous endeavors that this kingdom, rightly now, yours and mine, forevermore, must uphold, boldly, righteously, justice and its decree." "Father, this constance, unhappy we, if respect is compromised, be it for balance, ignorance I plead, for precious love, my Geinere. . . ." "Alarumdives, your wisdom exceeds you, a gentle harmony passed. Be it sincere, your declarations to cherish, this unition of marriage, not as virtue, for loves' royal to the commons, not. Can'st be, your labors, this battle staging as war closely approaches, a test, shall worthy proven, joy then." "My father, this Luciferus impediment, a call to arms, due parry peasant royalty. A falling star, my mercies upon, this calling of crusade, of scarlet tides of Eden's embrace, goodness surely redeemed. As graceful knight, I embark, these ardors of dire tragedies, kingdoms indifferent, be it of ill-virtue, of ill-decree? May the spirits that beckon bring forth victory." "Alarumdives, much needful preparation, call'st to arms, for the galleys of this kingdom bulging with cannon. I am to the balcon to esquire, gather, hence I salute." "The masterful sounding of the ram's horn, a call to bravery!" The hills of high, there did stand, a large platoon, the flags of Scotland, a summoning to port Wales. Torches afire, blazening with the perils of passion and vixen angelic. Viewing from afar, a messenger apart, battle today, no question. As both tides prepared for climax, the gallians, sure mighty, though as the Gods did pray, only a taste, hints of nothing more. The horns did exude, and battle, that erupted, was as the raging winds of Tyr. . . .
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