 Pampilla's
Taunt
Let
the A'rak's web be woven
that
ghostweb he was wont to weave
of
souls torn from bodies cloven
by
his fangs that all things cleave!
Let
him stab and slay and tear them,
souls
alive from bodies slain,
let
him weave those ghosts and wear them--
For
one doth come to work him pain
Heap
the smoking meat thous't plundered!
Weave,
oh A'rak! Weave it strong.
For
such web can scarce be sundered,
and
thou'lt need its shield ere long!
When
thour't clothed in Slaughter's garment
wilt
thou not be bravely clad?
Staunch
the fabric spun from torment!
And
bright the dies by victims bled!
But
'ware that thou be not the garment
of
one whose style outbraves thine own!
One
who does not dread interrment
Where
thy murdered prey have gone!
For
howso thick thou be appareled
in
thy web of woven woe
Thou
mays't find thyself ensnarled
At
the onslaught of thy foe.
When
the wing-song of her hunger
serenades
thee from the sky,
and
the bright barb of her anger
seeks
thy life (thou knowest why!)
Then,
Oh A'rak, thou mights't cower
when
thy shield becomes thy chain
and
Pam-Pel in all her power
shall
thee slay--at last!--again! |
Cannyharme
(Excerpt)