The Sword Of Wellaran

Lord Dunsany wrote a number of classic stories, allegories really, about the collapse of civilizations that no longer had the will to defend themselves. One, the Sword of Welleran, tells of a shining city on a hill that came to the point where its walls were defended by marble statues of the heroes who once guarded the city from the barbarians, but who now were long dead, and the citizens unwilling to defend themselves. The statues were so lifelike that the barbarians believed they were the live heroes who had so often defeated them, but one day, on closer inspection, it was revealed to the barbarians that the guardians were not men but statues. And so the city fell. That is where we now are headed, should Obama complete his agenda of disarming and destroying the shining city that is the United States.



The sword of Welleran is sheathed

The scabbard green with mold

The land the heroes past bequeathed

Now shudders with the cold

As icy winds swirl round her face

And brigands on the sly

Bring foul dishonor and disgrace

With every feeble lie

But heroes are not merely ghosts

They live and always will

They walk yet still their weary posts

Their eyes on yonder hill

Where lurks the foe who would be king

And lead us to our death

And desolation on us bring

And sobs with every breath

He’ll not succeed, the sword’s unsheathed

The marbled ghosts are here

They gleam with light, and laurel wreathed

They say we’ve naught to fear


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5 thoughts on “The Sword Of Wellaran

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