A Medieval Folksong

The nightingale among them
Sang sweet and loud and long,
Until a greater voice than hers
Rang out above her song.
For suddenly, among the crags,
Along the narrow vale,
The echoes of a hunting horn
Came clear upon the gale.

The hunter stood beside me
Who blew that mighty horn
I saw that he was hunting
The gentle unicorn --
But the unicorn is noble,
He knows his gentle birth
He knows that God has chosen him,
Above all beasts of earth.

The unicorn is noble;
He keeps him safe and high,
Upon a narrow path and steep,
Climbing to the sky,
And there no man can take him,
He scorns the hunter's dart
And only a virgin's mighy power
Shall tame his haughty heart.

What would be now the state of us,
But for this unicorn?
And what would be the fate of us,
Poor sinners, lost, forlorn?
Oh, may He lead us on and up,
Unworthy though we be,
Into His Father's kingdom,
To dwell eternally!

Written by: Ein Volksleid

Birth of the Unicorn

In the dark hours before morning
On a dew-covered grassy glen;
A baby drew it's first breath of life,
And the world changed, just then.

The beauty of life-new,
When all things stop to see;
"How it will be for a new one?" they'll wonder.
"Will it be the same as it was for me?"

At that moment we know all,
As if thoughts turn like the sands;
For our hearts are held
In the tiniest of hands.

Written by: Lady Gryphon

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