Bramblebane

Bramblebane

An Old Summerset Fable

'Twas in his young yester years when

Trinimac, the fated hero of our hearts,

Was but a little lad of just ten, then,

No more than a babe, and th'same of smarts;

Yet stronger was he than fifty five men,

Borne of God's blood in all his parts.

As thee shall see, t'would be his thickness

That delivered our little warrior his sickness.

Thro' meadows of sward and sage he ran,

Picking and his finger pricking on the way

Bright bramble berries of pink and cyan.

Tomorrow would he pick, each sunny day,

Licking stained thumbs; to leaving husks of bran;

To flies after his berry he would merrily slay.

All the days of Summer would Trinimac pick,

'Till at last of Last Seed would he meet a trick.

Within the darkest of th'forest's gloam

The boy went yet farther and farther;

Where all spirits of th'shadow roam

Still the boy saw darker yet darker.

'Till a great blackberry shone in dark dome,

Glowing mauve and lilac the fruity marker.

Entranced was Trinimac to this dewy berry,

Ignorant it might become death's black ferry.

As the child's hands met its warm flesh,

Little Trinimac was struck by God's hand;

Before him the wise wild father Y'frre afresh,

Singer of poesy in all Summer's happy land;

Heavy-beard caretaker of little Elves in thresh;

So spake he, voice like tree-trunks a-grand:

"Cease, mine God child, if ye wish to elude pain,

For today's not but a day after Bramblebane!"

"At Last Seed's day twenty-and-nine,

At Summer's end and birth of the cold,

I, the forest, bid you please not to dine,

For all bramble fruit be sick with mold;

When plum and grape's only good for wine,

And a good old pear's as rare as gold!

So this foul berry, to eat I beseech you not,

For after all, small hero, a life's all you've got."

Yet still, a hungry babe's always a fool,

And to Y'ffre's dismay, he ate it all.

He watched as the boy went home content,

And all the night Trinimac found his belly spent.

He would retch and retch for a week thereafter,

And at his bed old Y'ffre would die with laughter.

And for his wisdom, our ancestor has this to blame,

The day bold Trinimac learned of Bramblebane.