Pendragon

A sword in a stone will discover the king.

Its blade buried deep in the cold stone rests.

The lords of the land come to try their hands,

But the hilt remains firm, their best efforts arrests.

A blade from the earth just prove the man’s worth

Who wishes to take England’s crown.

For the glory and fame and power it claims

They continue to strain, these great men of renown.

But all but the heir the sword will forswear,

And soon it was clear that the man was not there,

For the blade remained firm in the stone’s cold grasp

Which no mighty hand had made to unclasp.

Then Merlin appeared with a boy, very young

And this boy stepped forth, and to the sword clung

And in his small hand the board’s grip was broken,

And as he raised the sword, the crowd loosened its tongue.

They gave a shout, a shattering cry

Their king was revealed and they reveled in joy.

But this very outcome no man had imagined.

There beneath the sword stood a boy, the Pendragon.