Sam's Turmoil Poem by Toney Brooks

'Speak to me, Herne, ' demanded Bellamy.

'Bellamy of Plantegenet, hail!
Seshat lives beyond the pale,
Longest thou, poor Sam? For what?
An ancient ruse, more rotten luck?
Poor, Sam. Poor, poor Sam! '

'O Herne! Thou art not Puck!
Upon my head fire has struck,
Light shineth not behind thy veil,
No woes be left to make a tale.
Lies, Herne! Herne lies and lies.'

'Fire struck fool's heart, not the head,
Bellamy can stand no more such dread,
Put heart to rest, poor Sam, and sail
Without the one beyond the pale.
The cause is lost, Sam, poor Sam.'

'I know your trap, your slight of hand,
And now I makest this demand;
Here and far, Herne's word is just,
So honor it, as would thy must.
Time is nigh, thou shalt remand! '

'Bellamy of Plantegenet, I bid thee well.
Have this woman thus cast that spell.
Your days, poor Sam, be tempest tost'd,
I pray your soul shall not be lost.
Farewell, poor Sam. I bid, fare the well.'