Legends of Avalon: The First Knight

By moonlit veil and misted shore, Where silent waters dream once more, An infant wept ’neath heaven’s flame, Unmarked by kin, unknown by name.

The Lady rose from lake’s embrace, A goddess crowned in silver grace. Her gaze beheld the babe forlorn, And in his cry, a king was born.

She whispered soft, “Thy path is dire, Yet forged in blood, in heart, in fire. From mortal dust thou shalt arise, To serve the realm where honor lies.”

So ’neath the waves his soul was bound, In crystal halls where fate is found. He grew in light the lake bestowed, Where time forgot and magic flowed.

His arm was strong, his heart made pure, A will unbent, a vow secure. With blade of dawn, he learned to fight, In mirrored depths of endless night.

Then came the day the ripples broke, And destiny in silence spoke. He rode from lake to mortal ground, Where Arthur’s call through dreams was found.

Before the throne he bowed his head, And spake not words, but deeds instead. His sword sang truth, his courage plain, And Arthur knew his noble vein.

The crimson stone began to gleam, Awoken by the Lady’s dream. Its light did dance ’neath Camelot’s dome, For Lancelot had found his home.

Then Arthur smiled, his voice rang clear, “Thy heart is pure, thy purpose near. By steel and soul, thy worth I see— Lancelot shalt thy name now be.”

“And for the lake that gave thee grace, Du Lac shall bind thy noble place. Rise, knight of crimson, strong and true, Britannia’s flame shall rest in you.”

Thus hailed the court, with breath and awe, The knight of lake, of heart, of law. First of the Twelve, his oath was cast— “To guard the realm while stars shall last.”

And Merlin spoke, in tones that rang, “Crimson shall burn where legends sang. By lake, by blade, by heart’s decree, He stands—the first of chivalry.”

The hall grew still, the torches low, As runes upon the Table glowed. Before the throne where kings command, Merlin raised his crystal hand.

The orb did shimmer, pale and red, Its light across the Table spread. One stone alone began to gleam— The Crimson Knight fulfilled the dream.

Upon that seat, once cold and bare, A figure shone through sacred air. Clad in mail, with gaze of flame, The Lady’s child of noble name.

Arthur watched with steady eyes, As silence filled the vaulted skies. And Merlin spake, with knowing grace, “Those whose fate still sleeps wait in shadowed grace.”

Thus burned the red in hallowed glow, While Eleven lay bound in time’s embrace. And in that hall where legends bide, The flame of Lancelot did abide.