Tag Archives: King Arthur

The Last Enchantment

Cordials and medicines,

perfumes concocted for the Queen’s pleasure,

herbs for the King’s kitchen

redolent of peace and the age of gold.

But with the sense of some change to come

as the fall of leaves and coming of winter.


He came on a golden evening

There was a full moon

like a ghost in the sky before sunset.

It hung behind the apple boughs

like a great misty lantern.

The room smelled of hyssop, apples and plums

laid on the shelves to ripen.

I heard a light step behind me and turned.


Magician they call me

but I niether expected his coming nor heard him

until I saw him lit by the deepening gold of the moon.

The meeting in the mist on the Island’s shore

had come back to me frequently, a dream, something imagined.


The real boy was here, flushed and smiling

as if unsure of his welcome.

Dressed in grey with a cloak the colour of beech-buds.


He began ‘I don’t suppose you remember me…’

‘Why should I not?  You are the boy who is Ninian’.


From a novel by Mary Stewart

‘A tale of Merlin’s own enchanting.  In the dark ebbtide of his powers he finds he is not totally deserted by his god.  Struggling for resignation, he finds a fulfilment that even he had never dreamed of.  His power and bright vision will be at the King’s service as long as Arthur lives, and, as he believes, long after.’

A ‘Black it Out’ for Björn’s prompt at dVerse



King Arthur’s Court


Magical stories illustrating

Yesterday’s legends of chivalry and knighthood

Take us to the court of Camelot and the

Holy Grail held by the fairy queen Guinevere


Prompt MYTH from Sunday Scribblings and shared with dVerse

Picture from Wiki

Merlin’s Well


Beyond the mists of time lies the island of Avalon,

severed from the mainland by a shallow lake.

Magical mystery was held in the Chalice

and written in the Druid runes on the sacred sword Excalibur.

Arthur drew this sword from solid stone in his youth.

The Lady of the Lake claimed it from his death barge.


At the foot of the Tor flows the blood spring.

Iron ore water flowing on forever in flood or drought.

Stone such as Stonehenge was brought here and wrought

into a narrow chamber that fills with first light

on the sunrise of midsummer morning.

A place holy to the Gods of long ago.


Within the well chamber lies a man sized niche

where coloured water gushes onwards

dispersing a watery mist in the air like stale blood.

This is the mythical hiding place of the chalice

and the magic mirror of Morgan le Fay.

Could this well hallowed by miracle and vision

have a more sinister history of Druid sacrifice?


The Tor is a strange hill to be the work of nature.

Perhaps we see the site of an ancient Sun Temple

and sense the power of the Beltane fires.

The energy of pagan rites long ago linger in this place.

Yet the site of the Abbey is holy.

Where the first wooden church was planted

by Jesuah and Joseph of Arimathea in The Way of Love.



And did those feet in ancient time.

Walk upon England’s mountains green:

And was the holy Lamb of God,

On England’s pleasant pastures seen!

And did the Countenance Divine,

Shine forth upon our clouded hills?

And was Jerusalem builded here,

Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my Bow of burning gold;

Bring me my Arrows of desire:

Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!

Bring me my Chariot of fire!

I will not cease from Mental Fight,

Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:

Till we have built Jerusalem,

In England’s green and pleasant Land

William Blake