I don't know why but this reminded me of
Lord Randall (Anon.) *
Maybe it was the repetition at the end of each stanza or the ode-like qualities it possesses.
The biggest problem (outwith the poem itself) is that I have no idea who Garth Nix is and therefore I don't know his characters. So, as a layperson reading it I don't know the characters. Is the Abhorsen a tribe, a monster, a nickname? A few couplets, maybe, would be recommended to introduce these characters.
Let's start, naturally, with the first stanza:
Southerling’s tale
The Abhorsen with mark at hand,
Trudging through the stormy land,
Seeking the enemy that we fear,
We all know our end is near,
Against his power we must fight,
Against the darkness of this night,
Stumbling forward, swords stained red,
Driving down the rotting dead,
Then it came, the fatal blow,
None of us will ever know,
If our enemy prevails
I'm curious to know why they are seeking an enemy if they are afraid of him and why they "must" fight against him.
Seeking the enemy that we fear,
We all know our end is near,
Against his power we must fight,
These three lines are a tad weak and seem cliched. The first line quoted also has too many syllables with respect to the other lines around it which through off the rhythm. I get the impression that these people are marching towards their doom. Choosing the right words should represent this impending end and, with your words, you have captured - and given the impression - that these people are pathetic with "stumbling". The rhythm, however, doesn't feel like a march at all.
Then it came, the fatal blow,
None of us will ever know,
If our enemy prevails
The problem with this part is that the previous lines have been in the present tense and changes to past tense, which takes the lines out of context. It doesn't feel right. If you change the tense to fit with the rest of the stanza then you'll also be able to alter the last line to match that of the other two stanzas.
Then it comes, the fatal blow,
None of them will ever know,
If the enemy prevails
The last line of each stanza is good. Reminds me of drinking songs, etc.
Lirael’s tale
The spell was cast, but would it hold,
The enemy in its spear of gold,
The spell she knew, the spell she found,
Now the creature would be bound,
The blood of seven, and the bells,
A swipe of the sword swimming in spells,
And if she lived, through this day,
She would always keep a sword at bay,
But if it was given, the fatal blow,
She herself would never know,
If the enemy prevails
The spell was cast, but would it hold,
The enemy in its spear of gold,
That's a question and deserves a question mark; not a comma.
A swipe of the sword swimming in spells,
That's the only line in this stanza that seems out of place. Again, it's too many syllables upsetting the rhythm.
Blood was needed for the final spell,
But how would Orannis dwell,
Hidden in its spear of gold,
Would Lirael’s magic hold?
A far away, distant dream,
Of being home, safe, and clean
But here fighting the greater dead,
He did not let his sadness spread,
Regaining courage, he ran at speed,
As though he was a mighty steed,
But if he received the fatal blow,
He would never ever know,
If the enemy prevails
Blood was needed for the final spell,
Why? Also, too many syllables.
But how would Orannis dwell,
Hidden in its spear of gold,
Needs a question mark.
As though he was a mighty steed,
As though he
were a mighty steed.
But if he received the fatal blow,
He would never ever know,
If the enemy prevails
Two things: firstly, that's a question and requires appropriate punctuation and the second quoted line jars the rhythm. To keep the question running, and within the rhythm, I'd suggest
how would he ever know....
Overall, it's a fun little poem. I think an introduction to the three verses - even if just a set of couplets - would help readers to understand the characters.
I still want to know who the hell the enemy is, though. For an unnamed evil, I can only assume the Devil. Keep working on it.
* Just thought I'd include the poem,
Lord Randall mentioned above.
Lord Randall
Anonymous
"Oh where ha'e ye been, Lord Randall my son?
O where ha'e ye been, my handsome young man?"
"I ha'e been to the wild wood: mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."
"Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randall my son?
Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?"
"I dined wi' my true love; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."
"What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randall my son?
What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?"
"I gat eels boiled in broo: mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."
"What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randall my son?
What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?"
"O they swelled and they died: mother, make my bed soon,
for I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."
"O I fear ye are poisoned, Lord Randall my son!
O I fear ye are poisoned, my handsome young man!"
"O yes, I am poisoned: mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down."
