Gwendolen, Page 3 Of 4 Poem by John Bliven Morin

Gwendolen raised her empty arm
And called to the high king thus:
“I ask you, why should so many die,
When the cause is between us? ”

“I challenge thee, Locrin, king,
To settle this by arms;
Just you and I beneath the sky,
None else will come to harm.”

A gasp went up from the warriors bold,
On both sides of the mede;
Though he might lose, he could not refuse,
So the king at once agreed.

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.

They both stepped down from their chariots wide,
With shield and sword and spear;
Toward each other they ran, this woman and man
And neither showed a fear.

They clashed with a sound like thunder,
As spears on broad shields rang,
Then sword-blades flew between the two,
Like the songs the old bards sang.

The king was seen to swing his blade,
But the queen beneath it flew;
Where her sword did go, struck a fatal blow,
And Locrin king, was through.

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.

Now ruler of all Britain,
She called for the German “queen; ”
Estrildis fair with the golden hair
Now faced a judgement, mean.

“My life is forfeit, I accept,
My doom, queen, is at one,
But will you spare my daughter fair,
The sister to your son? ”