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On Quantock Hills
On Quantock Hills, as Skylarks sing aloft,
A humble pilgrim walks on ways of old,
In morning light, with air so still and soft,
The book held in his hand doth gleam of gold.
He sits to rest and contemplate his soul,
But senses ancient darkness stirring nigh;
A dragon buried deep in earthen knoll,
Whose writhing form first cast the hills on high.
As flame and scale now rise to overwhelm,
Our pilgrim stays his fear to face the harm;
He utters sacred words to higher realms,
And grasps the dragon firmly in his palm.
His guiding light of virtue quells the fray,
And over heathered hills, he makes his way.
.
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Andrew Moody teaches and studies the art of classical riding in London, UK. He follows a traditional pathway of learning that was established in Renaissance riding academies, enriching his horsemanship by studying fine art drawing, early music, historic dance, and ancient philosophy. Andy is currently engaged in part-time doctoral research at Durham University, exploring the choreography of riding and equestrian ballet in the 16th century.
The psychological depths of this poem entrance and elicit a range of emotions. We are left to ponder the meaning of the dragon and the book of gold from perspectives of you the poet, the written verse, and our own soul. “The “guiding light of virtue” removes us, like the pilgrim from the fray and such a quandary of thought.
Mr. Peterson, The poet, above, might have written this poem in the 17th century. Are we forbidden, as admirers of the poetic abilities of that, and other past centuries, to write formal poetry stripped of any modern theme and sensibility? Figuratively, we are all lone pilgrims; the reader’s imagination can make the golden book into anything from the Bible to satanic handbook to something utterly mysterious. Do Quantock Hills exist? Pure fantasy is quite acceptable as long as it is clearly that. But here a lingering question: what is the poet saying?
Am I just simple minded in the face of a great work?
I would appreciate reply, esp. if you could include one of yous as an object lesson in modern classical poetry.
Edward C Hayes, age 86
Member — even published by — the SCP
Flash fiction emerges from your sonnet crafted in ways of old, Andrew. It accommodates not only that current kind of narrative, but remains as well a classic English sonnet, with volta in the couplet. Good to hear from a student of comprehensive elder arts at Durham, where I myself have academic lineage in literature.
Echoes of Gandalf. A wonderfully visual piece, mixing places known, with mythology and fantasy.
Nicely done, Andy. Thanks for the read.