The Myth of the Hart Slayer
Sing high in the air
For the heart of the deer
Laid bare
By the hunter who roams
The royal forest.
Good king’s brother
Hero of the poor,
His name, no one knows,
Whose blood must slay
Man’s greatest foe.
Or so cry the future sayers:
For among all men
And across all fae,
No heart can be braver
Than that of the hart slayer















