Gwendolen, Page 2 Of 4 Poem by John Bliven Morin

Laying the lands of Locrin bare,
There was no turning back;
Led by their queen, who was always seen
At the fore of their attack.

Gwendolen was a princess born
Dumnonian daughter of steel
With a sword to harm and a shield on her arm
And a wolf-hound at her heel.

No one could stand against her;
They’d either die or yield;
And as she’d ride, right by her side,
Young Mathan bore her shield.

At last the king assembled
An army strong and vast,
With spear points keen to meet the queen,
And he marched them double-fast.

At last they met on a stormy day,
In the middle of the realm;
On a field of green there could be seen
Two armies helm to helm.

Gwendolen was a princess born
Dumnonian daughter of steel
With a sword to harm and a shield on her arm
And a wolf-hound at her heel.

Across the meadow came a voice
Locrin’s hot demand,
“Why burn you farms and cause such harm?
What do you in my land? ”

“I’ll tell you, former husband, king,
Just why why I burn and slay;
I come to find a bull of mine,
A bull that’s gone astray.”

At this, Locrin raised his sword
To order the attack,
By cavalry and infantry,
Yet something held him back.

Gwendolen was a princess born
Dumnonian daughter of steel
With a sword to harm and a shield on her arm
And a wolf-hound at her heel.