Luria Nova/A Collection of Lurian Songs & Poetry

This section of the Imperial Library contains a vast amount of cultural works, many of which are patronised by Lurian nobility, or even written by them, but others are included from independant sources if they have wealth or renown. The University of Dwilight also contains many prominent works here. Specifically, here lies the works of poetry scribed in Greater Luria and beyond.

A Short Poem by Leif

- By Sir Leif Wilkins, Knight of Irvington

Half man to some, a legend to others,

He inspires the hearts of most men and all mothers,

One half may sound incomplete,

But in cheer and joy no one else can compete,

Some may find him a bother,

But most know him as friend or a brother,

Close your eyes, breathe inside, and look deep,

Don’t be blue, or ashamed, or asleep,

Think of the cheery ol’ Leif,

Feel your heart, it's now empty - he took it, that thief!

The Sallow Sovereign

- By Sir Sevastian Schwarzherzig, Knight of Askileon

Murmurs of the King, of the Pallid Mask,

Grain rots beneath the jaundiced sun,

Whilst the Steward is brought to task,

The Shadows Lengthen,

In Solaria.

Marocciden gluttony and avarice,

The bleeding land is staunched,

By the vision of Blinded Alice,

Our Mother has risen,

In Lost Solaria

Vesperi arrogance is brought to heel,

Nihil sub sole novum,

Treasonous sons broken upon the wheel,

Death breeds new life,

In unified Luria

Whispers spoken softly loudly ring,

Where flap the tatters of the Dragon King,

Must die unheard in,

Cursed Nebel

Song of my soul, the whispers are dead,

Die thou, unsung, choking on ambition,

False pretenses and tears unshed,

Shall dry and die with,

The Lost Occidens.

Tragedy of the West

- By King Matthew Coffey, of Earth Hall

Blackened skies above their heads,

Lonely paths below,

With truth they cannot see,

The lights to guide them home.

So this is it, the end of days,

Walking till the morning breaks.

Travelling down a trodden path,

A labyrinth of rock and mire,

Holding hands as they passed by,

Seas of blazing pyres.

So this is it, the end of days,

Walking till the morning breaks.

Singing songs of love and war,

Songs of hope and pain,

They were lost within a dream,

That they would never yield again.

So this is it, the end of days,

Walking till the morning breaks.

Every thought and every word,

That ever came to pass,

Fell to that great beyond,

A tragedy that would not be surpassed.

So this is it, the end of days,

We have walked now.

The morning breaks.

A Poem by Sir Kelindun Orobar, Knight of Giask

Once no more than seed in fertile ground,

Cast amidst a blooming garden,

Soon gave birth to ideals so profound,

She became Dwilight's warden.

​Witness Her growth,

​Earth, Moon, Sky and Sun united in duty,

​Heroes swear their undying oath,

​For She is the Unrivaled Beauty.

​Delicate flower, enchanting scent,

​Imagine the envy and hatred born,

​Only leads to Her enemies repent,

​Now they know, She wears a thorn.

​Alas, She looks weak to the beholder,

​Monster and beast come to claim Her Life,

​Winter places his cold hand on Her shoulder,

​Cutting Her reign with his knife.

​ Do not fear, Her roots run deep and strong,

​Steadfast warriors will never surrender,

​Reborn to the place She belong,

​Her petals bloom once more, with renewed splendour.

King Karibash of Everguard, the follower of Tor

by Sir Myr Arnickles Renodin, Knight of Askileon

Upon a bed of cloudy sky

A dragon sleeps with boney mane

His eyes burn black amid his flight

He's more than strong, but less than sane

Though some are born to sweet delight

Ever serene and unafraid

"Thou scream in awe before my might!"

The dragon's voice rives through the glade

The flames erupt from dire maw

The ashes unbecome a wood

And bodies squirt blood from the jaws

All sought escape, yet noone could

An infant's ash adorns the yard,

His mother's cries would mourn the plight

If hadn't used her as a lard

The dargon's sordid appetite

Such is the fate, no point in lies,

So scream or cry, or sleep, or brood

You are the world in your own eyes

In dragon's though you are but food

Jimmy the Goat

By Sir Leif Wilkins, Knight of Irvington

I woke up in my chamber this morning,

A young cock was moaning and groaning,

I looked out of the window, and out of the blue,

It was Jimmy the dimwit looking as ifth’ he found some grand clue,

A slingshot in hand and with masterful aim,

I got him right in his future, making him tame,

The rest of the morning was quiet and calm,

As dimwitted Jimmy lay there - no use for his palm.

Jimmy now tends the garden - sings to birds and the bees,

Most of his time now he spends on his knees.

The Saga of Karibash Ka Habb

Courteousy of Karibash Ka Habb

Valkyrjan walls stood vast

Before warriors of western worlds

So spoke the Saxon seereress

Of her victory ordained

Warborn Tórrarin with rage

Wreckless abandon wrought through him

Cried out courageously

At the peasant queen afar

My arm though broken was remade

From Tor's wrath I am giv'n

Unbreakable a guard arm made

With which your world be rend'd

Haruka' howled horrendous like

Warborn didn't even flinch

Forward her foul call

Fool was he to make she

The horns were heard all wide

War to remake our world

Two tribes together charged

History was made this day

The thousandslayer who built the walls

So cruelly fated to tear them down

The king crashed against their ranks

Terror, fear, and pain abound

The battle closed in sunlight

Warborn cried out aloud

The peasant queen fled with haste

Against the rage of Tor made mortal

So was Valkyrja broken

By the builder of her walls

The shieldarm sworn to protect

By Tor's anger made to destroy

Lament for a Lost Home

By Countess Kaguya Fujiwara, of Ciarin Tut

Spring in fair Yamatai

Blossoms bloom from Earth to Sky,

Now only in mind's eye.

A Tribute to Sir Dorian Pavus

By Dame Isabella Pavus, Knight of Askileon

The night was long, the day had been,

The roles of noble man all done,

For now he rested with his kin,

Dancing, singing, then feasting,

He dug into the baker’s bun,

The fresh-made bread had shiny sheen,

And he said, “all so well done”,

And smiled at the treat, all the while glistening,

But Dorian would soon be gone,

The hero-priest, the admirable

Man that could withstand all brawn

And face of anything harrowing.

But maybe he was conquerable,

Human just like any on

A journey that was imponderable

Leaving sailed ship sinking.

He journeyed off out to the west,

Out to take on mighty foes,

All just to prove part of mad test,

To prove he was the harbinger,

Soon he learnt that he had woes

And may not come out his best.

But then a holy axe he shows

Truly the blood stars’ arbiter.

But more to him was Luria,

Land of the greatest kings,

Emperor, lords and area

Blessed by the divines it is.

The realm and where siren sings

Is where the gods throw feria

For gods and Luria swapped rings

And with this should be no ascesis.

Though not all here have been so smart

With likes of Harte and Dodger.

You might just think of knavery art

When trickery is all they’re dealing.

They sing of songs of Dodger’s Todger

And that of Chance’s Harte

That is to say worth less than slobber

All the while they are all missing!

We Bleed

By Sir Leif Wilkins, Knight of Irvington

We Bleed

We play life for fortunate and glory,

Some live life for the story,

Blood is everywhere - on our hands, in our veins,

It beats and it bleeds - plenty as Luria’s grains,

But where truly, is blood spilled?

Is it simply when a man is killed?

Alas, nay - that’s just blood,

In pursuit of greatness our mind is oft a flood,

For truly, blood is our essence,

It flows hot or cold - depending on presence,

It’s all a game - avoiding failure, when true colours will bleed,

Thus man is defined by his creed,

Be it hunger or patience, sweetness or greed.

These Southern Winds Bite

By Earl Staedtler la Stylo, of Shinnen Purlieus

Beside the ailing farm-fields,

beneath the looming peaks,

entrenched in soil,

and age-soaked beams.

Here lie the failing arm-wields,

in each are fooling sheikhs,

incensed with oils,

bandaged, cloaked in dreams.

They bicker as crows,

slumber as oak roots,

gorging upon their history,

at boresome feasts.

Make wicker of crowns,

stumbling down old mouts,

forging nought but mystery,

of awesome deeds.

The storm howled,

so the thatch did tear,

the stale air shot cold,

as if a ghost's mouth did breathe.

'The fauns growled,'

lo, the wretch did declare,

'these trailing fears are not old;

passive, the lost south sits beneath.'

The salt-flecked tide,

crashes to their buckling walls,

all leaking and showering, the homely, the pinewood,

Fury, free-formed, drowning through their leather.

Their gold-set mind,

flashes through their calls,

foreseeing as only the wise would;

a Luria, reborn, sounding true as the weather.

From Earth to Moon

By Drake Bluelake

A boy and his uncle

One Head and one Heir

One full of dreams

One full of hair

They travel together

A path so well travelled

By heroes of Luria

From tales unravelled

From Earth through the pastures

And plains by the lake

There were even monsters

Defeated by Drake

Then came the sea

The sight so breathtaking

Even heroes of old

Have had their knees shaking

She shines in Silver

She bustles with life

Her arches hold stories

Her markets, delights

The Moon has it all

Even feathers she wields

But Heir wants the soldiers

And horses, and shields

They sprout from Earth

With dreams fed by Moon

All heroes of old

And those coming soon.

Collection of Anonymous or non-noble Writers

- ((OOC: AKA. Appropriated/Adapted/Inspired Material)) Courteousy of various patrons of the Imperial Library

The following song speaks of the monstrous invasions that proceeded the Southern League War of Luria. A tribute to ex-Emperor Sholan A'Valti is ascribed to it, as well as the Lurians that inevitably were brought war and famine without having sought it.

War for the South - ((Original: Blind Guardian - War of the Thrones))

Nothing will grow here,

Ashen fields - blackened sorrow,

Legacy of a lost world,

Feeding the void,

What are they waiting for?

I am too late,

It is more than a game,

The Euschean reveals,

Now we lie between these lines,

We cannot escape it seems;

Sail on, our friends.

All I ever feel is,

All I ever see is,

Walls they fall,

When the march of the beasts begin.

Rise and fall,

When the war for the South shall begin.

Will it ever end?

Will I find what we are longing for?

Will we ever walk out of shadows so grey?

We are condemned, we are harrowed,

Ashen fields they do not hurt anymore.

I cannot escape it seems,

There at the world's end.

It is me,

I sing;

Sadly I sing.

All I ever feel is,

All I ever see is,

Walls they fall,

When the march of the dead begin.

Rise and fall,

When the war for the South begins.

Watch the Euschean it flows,

Now and ever,

I cannot believe in more,

And now our time will come,

Carry on.

There is luck at the gallows;

Let it rain,

There will be no more spring.

My dream is a mirror,

That reveals a matter of lies.

All I ever feel is,

All I ever see is,

Walls they fall,

Now the march of the Luria's has begun.

Rise and fall,

Now the war for the South has begun.

Leave a fee for the Stars,

The Stars,

And the Euschean behind.

Leave the Euschean behind.

This song is something of a satire of the conflict between Sanguis Astroism and the Lurian Ecclesial Sanguiastroism. It speaks of Enoch Dishman and Jonsu Himoura, so named tyrants and deceivers for leading the faith astray. However, the mobs of the ex-Emperor Seoras Madigan act violently and without law toward the heretics. It is clearly fabrication, and not a historical tale, but popular among some pluralistic Lurians still.

The Day of Betrayal ((Original: Blind Guardian - Curse My Name))

The tenure of Kings and their magistrates,

By good men it must be deposed,

The proclamation made can be voided at once,

Disanoint them, take the crown.

They plead for their King,

They pity their Prophet,

Put them to death, that's what I say.

Though never so just these dancing divines,

Endue them with reason and grace,

Their gibberish,

Words dissemble the facts,

"Star's will!"

They falsely will claim.

"Let them curse my name!

On these blood-stained pages of misery,

Let them call me a tyrant so cruel,

Let them curse my name,

But remember the truth."

So there they come,

From everywhere,

They witness revenge,

Hear them calling,

"You're laden with blood,

It's spilled everywhere!"

Sorrow's everlasting.

You'll be aware now,

The trial is near,

It's close at hand,

The masquerade is over,

It ends.

Remove his crown,

And bring him down,

Now we shall mourn no longer,

Our prayers they've been heard,

There's no more league,

That will bind us to the tyrant,

Our voices shall be heard,

We won't take it anymore.

We're one and we are the faith,

We're one and we are the law.

Falsely they praise,

Deify the Prophet,

"She's blessed the anointed's,

Fulfilling the Star's will."

Curse them all,

No further she's Prophet,

Providence brought them straight into our hands.

"Let them curse my name!

On these blood-stained pages of misery,

Let them call me a liar so deceitful,

Let them curse my name,

But remember the truth."

Now let them appear,

There's joy in the air,

Now witness a new age is dawning,

In trouble alone,

They face despair,

Awaiting their bitter ending.

We all know they're guilty as charged,

By punishment due to their crimes,

Sacrifice the wicked!

Acknowledged by scripture and law.

"Let them curse our names!

On these blood-stained pages of misery,

Let them call us tyrants so cruel,

Let them call us liars so deceitful,

Let them curse our names,

But we shall remember the truth."

This Lurian military song is ascribed to the regiments of the Emperor's Will, a northern army situated in Earth Hall mostly, but also Moon Hall. A patriotic tune, sometimes heralding the advance of the Emperors armies.

The Watch on the Euschean - ((Original: Max Schneckenburger - Die Wacht Am Rhein))

The cry resounds like thunder's peal,

Like crashing waves and clang of steel:

To the North, the North. to the Lurian North,

Who will defend our lands henceforth?

Loving Empire, put your mind at rest,

Firm and true, stands his Will,

The Watch on the Euschean!

They stand, a thousand strong,

Quick to avenge their country's wrong,

The honest Lurian, their bosoms swell,

They shall protect the sacred lands well.

Loving Empire, put your mind at rest,

Firm and true, stands his Will,

The Watch on the Euschean!

They look up to heaven's blue,

From where ancient heroes hold their view,

And swear with pride and oath,

You Euschean and I, stay Lurian, both.

Loving Empire, put your mind at rest,

Firm and true, stands his Will,

The Watch on the Euschean!

Should my heart not survive this stand,

You will never fall into foreign hands,

Much, as your waters without end,

Is Luria in heroes' blood, willing to spend.

Loving Empire, put your mind at rest,

Firm and true, stands his Will,

The Watch on the Euschean!

So lead us with your tried command,

With trust in the Empire, sword in hand,

Hail the Emperor! Ours is the flood!

Erase any shame with our foes' blood!

Loving Empire, put your mind at rest,

Firm and true, stands his Will,

The Watch on the Euschean!

The cry resounds like thunder's peal,

Like crashing waves and clang of steel:

To the North, the North. to the Lurian North,

Who will defend our lands henceforth?

Loving Empire, put your mind at rest,

Firm and true, stands his Will,

The Watch on the Euschean!