a collection of literature from poets, bards, songwriters, and skalds in the SCA

Young Tithon, with the growing morning's light

Poem (Canso): 

Young Tithon, with the growing morning’s light
did find himself full well:
His love’s warmth did shine about him bright
like an heavenly shell.
As day began to leave behind the morn,
Tithonis her did call:
“My dearest love, from whom the flower is born,
to you I give my all.
Think still on me, while long you stride,
for such love is my greatest pride.” 

The beaming sun did smile long in reply
and sang thus to her love:
“Give worry not to day approaching nigh,
for sail I straight above.
And if thou missest me but one moment,
then look thou to the aire:
But glance upon these tresses most ardent,
which shall remove thy care.
Long have we to perform our art,
that death destroy in mortals heart.”

So Tithon sat to watch his dame parade,
while long stretched the midday:
In golden veil with ageless form arrayde,
did Dawn climb e’er away.
The shepherd then to feel the weight of age
began to sorely pain:
While far away, Aurora of this wage
knew naught of Tithons waine.
Man, fearing him the dawn despise,
did in shadow himself disguise.

Aurora lost sight of her love below,
who did from her escape:
Tithonis weary years began to show,
thinking himself misshape.
The maiden dawn stretched her neck all about,
hoping her love to find:
While the world’s host in sight grew more devout,
to Tithon stayed she blind.
Yet from a darkened wood he spied,
burning love, aging form belied.

The day progressed in train of cloud to dusk,
with no reunion near:
Tithon, afraid to show his wisened husk,
would not approach his dear.
Yet evening waited not for lovers tryst
that might Tithon acquit:
Auroras crown to Cynthia dismisst,
while Dawn to rest was sit.
The agèd man watched her depart,
she who had godlike made his heart. 

Alone sits withered Tithon in a grove,
waiting for dawn’s embrace:
For years in darkness hath he failed to move,
preferring this cold place.
His love departed while in comely state,
whilst he hath gained in age:
Her fairness memory shall not deflate,
nor he grow more the sage.
Languish Tithon for the sweet dame
whose light again he cannot claime.