By Master Hector of the Black Height
I heard a raven call your name, Osis of the Livery;
The raven said he learned it from the face in foes' dead eyes,
For many men have seen you, and many men have fallen;
From such do some build glory and from such some pluck their prize.
I heard the raven cry your name;
Such is the sum of Prince's fame.
I heard a raven call your name, Osis the shield-hewer;
The raven learned it in the faces staring from the list.
There fell before your might the splendour serried from the Northlands:
With steel you caught a crown, the same steel those red lips had kissed.
Once more I heard the raven's cry;
So quickly do the seasons fly.
I heard a raven call your name, Osis, son of Michael;
The raven saw you in the eyes of men from Carthage's shore
Amidst the fallen foemen who now feed the fatted ravens
In distant lands, 'midst friends who followed your command to War.
Yet once again the raven cried;
'Twas at your word so many died.
I heard a raven call your name, Osis, Prince of Northlands;
He learned it from the cheers that rang about him in the air.
Your name and fame will live far past the day you feast the raven:
Your strengths outdid those weaknesses we are condemned to share.
Then did the raven fly away:Another wears your crown this day.
(copyright Arthur McLean 1991-2000)