Hailmur: Created page with "Written by Protectorate Rile, in the position of High Bard of the Empire. Category:Music ''There is a saying, sometimes attributed to the exemplar Berechiah, that the true measure of someone's Virtue should not be the verdict of their friends, but of their enemies.'' The watcher Vigilant upon the wall Looks in as well as out. So should we all. Today I speak of what we find within, War and rebellion waiting to begin - And anger from within bears d..."

2024-08-20T01:59:01Z

Created page with "<ic>Written by Protectorate Rile, in the position of High Bard of the Empire.</ic> Category:Music <song> ''There is a saying, sometimes attributed to the exemplar Berechiah, that the true measure of someone's Virtue should not be the verdict of their friends, but of their enemies.'' The watcher Vigilant upon the wall Looks in as well as out. So should we all. Today I speak of what we find within, War and rebellion waiting to begin - And anger from within bears d..."

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<ic>Written by Protectorate Rile, in the position of [[High Bard of the Empire]].</ic>
[[Category:Music]]
<song>
''There is a saying, sometimes attributed to the exemplar Berechiah, that the true measure of someone's Virtue should not be the verdict of their friends, but of their enemies.''

The watcher Vigilant upon the wall
Looks in as well as out. So should we all.
Today I speak of what we find within,
War and rebellion waiting to begin -
And anger from within bears deeper thought:
They are not simply spiteful, nor untaught,
But move among us and know what they see -
Why does the Empire seem their enemy?

Unrest is not by only malice sown:
So too ill-will and discontent are grown
From seeds of folly, carelessness, short sight,
And flourish til their cause is put to right.
I do not speak of traitors, cultists, spies -
But of our citizens who chafe and rise
Against demands they say have gone too far,
Those not afflicted blind to those who are.
Do this, they hear, the Empire stands in need -
The Empire has no body that will bleed.
The wound is felt by nations and by friends,
Given on trust the means are worth the ends.
And now it seems to some that they are not,
That there are things that Anvil has forgot.
In Urizen, in Bregasland, elsewhere,
The murmurs start: They do not heed us there,
in Anvil, those who call themselves the state.
They promise much and give but little, late.
Eager for land and careless of its cost,
In trust destroyed or souls and soldiers lost;
But when confronted with the final slate,
Then prudent, suddenly, to weigh and wait;
Slavish to numbers, fearful of their purse,
Failing to act, or, acting, making worse.
That is the Empire through those wounded eyes:
Unprosperous, disloyal and unwise!

But they are not the only voices here,
Who see the Empire from within, and sneer:
These armies, not of earth, but of the Day -
What do the actions of the Cold Sun say?
Cold Sun despises all that stirs the soul -
All things it cannot measure and control;
All things bare reason cannot comprehend
It hates and fears, and so demands they end.
All passion, laughter, beauty, music, art,
Is burned and broken to its smallest part;
All that is inward, dreaming, wistful, strange,
Shattered to dust that cannot mean or change;
All that is daring, proud, unlikely, rash,
Into the deadly purity of ash.
The Day Realm touches earth a million times,
And art and beauty prosper in all climes;
And yet, with all the world to slake its fear,
It came for us. It sent its soldiers here.
The Pride, Ambition, Courage, of this land
Were those it feared too much to let them stand!
There are two Empires tilting in the scale,
And it is Anvil says which will prevail.
Is this a land that drains its people dry,
Spends lives and livelihoods and gives back naught?
Is this a land that hears its people cry,
And will not keep the oaths for which they fought?
Or - is it champion of the Virtuous dream,
That sets Ambitions high and sees them done?
A will that will not bend, a flame whose gleam
Eclipses that which names itself the sun?
These are the words we made our battle-cry:
One Throne, one Empire, and one Loyalty
Steadfast as mountains, boundless as the sky.
None left behind. None kept from destiny.
The Throne is empty. You have final say.
Which of these Empires shall we be today?
</song>

The Verdict of Our Enemies (poem) - Revision history