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The Unfinished Book of Bleise

All the battles that were won
    Merlin bade his master, Bleise,
Put on parchment. Caerleon,—
    Blazoned round with crimson rays
Was that page of night and sun:
    And the seige of Ile Maleise,—
Black and purple, marching on.
    But when he wrote the fierce assays
The Haut King had in Caledon,
    The letters fought: the rampant A's,
The S's all awry—each one
    Recall'd the burning tower of Pase,
Wherein the knights in agony spun.
    For so the letters twirl'd, till Bleise
Left Merlin's book of wars undone.
    Yet fame hath still her splendent ways:
    Still shall keep the Haut King's praise
    Sounding to the end of days.