my wine-dark Muse de l’Eau
of Francis Drake’s New Albion
where the winds of Faerie blow:
he sailed the Ocean Stream that’s curled
past continents of gold
to fall on distant Spanish lands
a pirate brave and bold.
His Virgin Queen, Elizabeth,
said, “Bring me prizes, Drake!
Gold and jewels, exotic beasts,
a penguin and a snake!
Discover lands beyond the realms
of Spaniard and of Frank:
when you return a knighthood
will be my least of thanks.”
“My Queen I can’t refuse you,”
and so he set all sail,
around the Horn to Albion,
and thereby hangs our tale:
for he followed her command,
right down to the letter:
he passed all distant Spanish lands…
and then he did one better!
“Steer hence and follow on!”
and so the Golden Hind tacked round
into the misty dawn
through the Straits of Anian
by an auspicious tide
into Faerie realms he sailed
where ghosts through forests glide.
For when the Moon is waxing strange
and currents run just so
a portal opens to the world
where elder legends go
when they are tired of mortal life
and looking for a rest
wanting surcease, some respite
from noisy human pests.
Inhuman eyes looked out upon
the little English fleet
while down the paths the Heralds ran
on lightly racing feets
to tell the Council of the news
that something was amiss
whose leader muttered only,
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”