the legend of amay stonefield

1.

There was a maid who lived upon a hill,

From town and townsmen she was far away,

A hut was all she had upon the hill,

Where waited she for someone, fables say.


When e'er a bird sang at her windowsill,

She'd reach there hoping 'twas her friend Amay,

Amay! Amay! she'd cry out by the sill,

Amay! Amay! she'd long all night and day.


'"She is my friend whom I lost to the sea,

O' aye! O' aye! she hath besweared to come,

Ere she will be conquering o'er the sea,

I'll bid glow on her path and lyre strum.


A chanteuse great, her voice so sweetful be,

Danceth the air when she begins to hum,

No other chanteuse e'er so sweetful be,

When she caroleth, other lips stay mum."


'No Amay liveth there. The lady's false!

The townsmen said this when asked of that name,

Madness hath gotten her! Her words are false,

Her malarkey brought our estate shame!


Only this much the fable to me showed,

I longed to know what happened to that maid,

Fortuned, I got a short memoir which showed

The text of a long verse which on it laid.


2.

Only a page the note contained which read:

Amay Stonefield, proud daughter of a Knight,

Against the Turkish troops her platoon led,

Borne by the blood of English will and might.


When she sang as if an angel did sing,

Her melodic waves would all minds entrance

And in each soul, a great patriot bring,

Who, armed with spear, did for the war advance.


They had captured half of the eastern lands,

Soon for the west on sea they progressed on,

Equipped with cannonades they bombed their stands

Of chief outposts and fully aggressed on.


But fortune betrayed them, the foes did creep

At night, onset their tents and slayed the men,

Some died while combating, some died in sleep,

No news of this knightess was heard since then.


Some days therehence, a likely corpse was seen

By fishermen on shore but corpse 'twas not,

'Amay!' they cried, wounds on her head had been

And of the past and self, she had forgot.


Yet she remembered someone named Amay,

Queried of her from door to door until

Her own town's folk deemed her mad and one day

Expulsed her far away upon a hill.

Shamik Banerjee is a poet and poetry reviewer from the North-Eastern belt of India. He loves taking long strolls and spending time with his family. His deep affection with Solitude and Poetry provides him happiness.

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