Friday Poem
© 2023-08-11 Luther Tychonievich
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Reflections on Bullfinch’s Orc

This has allusion to one of the myths in Bullfinch’s Mythology, a small part which reads as follows:

In the sea that washes the coast of Ireland there is an island called Ebuda, whose inhabitants, once numerous, had been wasted by the anger of Proteus till there were now but few left. This deity was incensed by some neglect of the usual honors which he had in old times received from the inhabitants of the land, and, to execute his vengeance, had sent a horrid sea-monster, called an Orc, to devour them. Such were the terrors of his ravages that the whole people of the isle had shut themselves up in the principal town, and relied on their walls alone to protect them.

[…]

The horrible monster was like nothing that nature produces. It was but one mass of tossing and twisting body, with nothing of the animal but head, eyes, and mouth, the last furnished with tusks like those of the wild boar.

Untitled Poem

A dungeon, as I’m sure you know
    Is not some cavern vast;
It’s just a room that’s down below,
    In comfort ranking last.
A dragon’s hoard is not free gold
    Despite what meets the eye;
Its treasures stolen, never sold,
    For dragons will not buy.
A pixie’s just a Gaelic soul
    By Romans vilified;
And in each family is a troll
    Whose snark we cannot hide.
An Orc, however, is not thus;
    It is, I fear to share
A monster made by Proteus
    To terrorize and scare.
Its thrashing makes of sea a foam
    That even birds can’t top;
Beyond its reach no ship can roam,
    All blows its scales stop.
If you should chance upon an Orc
    Without demonic aid
To fight your fate is futile work
    For it cannot be slayed.