The Blacksmith Poem by Patrick William Kavanagh

The hammer strikes the fiery steel,
The sparks, like fire-flies, dance and wheel,
The anvil rings out like a bell,
A slow, relentless, steady beat,
And in the gloom, the blazing furnace fiercely glows,
Sweat glistens on his arms amid the smoke and heat.

As hammer fell, his voice rang deep and clear,
Singing praises to the gods who held his craft so dear,
Hephaestus, Vulcan and Sethlans,
All heard his song and added wisdom to those powerful arms,
This sword would have no lack, no flaw,
This sword would crown a king, and give the warring chieftains law.

A cunning Man who viewed this feat of skill, in dream, from far away,
Awoke and grasping sack and staff, he walked for many, many days.
Then late one stormy night, with staff, he struck the blacksmiths door,
When beckoned in, and fed and warmed,
He told the blacksmith of his dream for ending war,
A sword for chivalry and peace, a Sword to guard the righteous and the poor.





The deal was done, with promises and charms and gold,
Next day the sun, like blazing fire, arose, as off they walked to seek the gods of old,
The bleak and rocky summit of Fanfawr, the blacksmith and the druid sought,
and Merlin mused his plans for such a sword so cheaply bought,
They walked in thoughtful silence, rarely did they stop for rest,
Touched by the Ancient Gods, they hurried to complete their quest.

They reached the summit, late at night, the forests and the valleys far behind,
The lightning flashes burned their eyes, through lashing rain, they stumbled forward, blind.
The blacksmith climbed the ancient ruddy stone,
The druid chanted, rattled wood and bone,
The blacksmith raised Excalibur above his head, although he shook with fear,
The mountain shook, the shrieking wind tore at his cloak, the Ancient Ones drew near,

One mighty thrust, his work was done, the sword pierced deeply into stone,
He fell to earth, his body spent, he rose up with the gods and travelled on.
And Merlin built a sacred cairn upon the place the Blacksmiths body lay,
And for a cycle of the moon, he mourned and fasted and he prayed.
So if you walk the Brecon Beacons and you reach Fanfawr.
Just touch the Cairn in honour of the Blacksmith lying there.