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Mar 2014
Upon the hallowed ground she stood
The wind blew through her hair
A swallow swooped o’er the darkening sky
And the scent of rain filled the air

She heard the voices loud as thunder
Echo o'er hill and down
And warily she watched them
Ride their ghost mounts into the town

The rain now fell in torrents
Upon the hallowed field
But she moved not from her own same spot
As a deathly grip bid her yield

A hand of ice held fast her hem
Though she struggled against its grasp
She begged it there to let her go
Then from the earth she heard it rasp

‘One kiss my bonny sweetheart
the years were long since I saw thee last
It be cold here in the hallowed ground
Though I be but a memory of the past.’

‘I fought here on the battle ground
with rapier high and voice aloft
till down the enemy struck me fast
to lie in blood on the damp ground soft.’

The hand then loosed its steely grasp
And she saw her true love’s form
A cold and bleeding upon the ground
as more furious grew the storm

As the rain then pelted down around
The long lost lovers in their embrace
His bonny sweetheart spoke to him
With trembling lip and heart that raced

‘My own true love, my only
Long waited I for your return
I scorned the suitors who sought my hand
for your memory I would not scorn.

‘I prayed long for word or news
of thy well being or how thee faired,
but none e’re came to me at all
so I waited, hoping you had been spared.’

‘A truer love man never had
that would wait through tears and time
and keep the hope that I still lived
to find that in the ground I lie.

Forgive me, love, I’ve done thee wrong
To make thee wait for me so
Take my hand with one last kiss
And then my love, you must go.’

‘Nay my only, only love,
it’s here with you I’ll stay
I’ll not go back without thee,
I’ll stay by thy side, come what may.’

So upon the hallowed ground she lay
Hair damp and soaked to the skin
And by his side she lay all night
As she clutched his hand so thin.

The town knew not where she had gone
But in the morn they found
She’s gone to be with her one true love
Dead, upon the hallowed ground.
Dug this old thing up from the archives. I wrote it as a Halloween piece several years ago. Yes, the subject matter is dark, but the vast majority of medieval ballads deal either with ****, ******, or ghosts. This was my take on a common theme where a lover comes back from the dead.
Elaenor Aisling
Written by
Elaenor Aisling  27/F/body in U.S. heart in U.K
(27/F/body in U.S. heart in U.K)   
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