Tag: Thrown weapons

Lo, mark the hand that flies so true,
With strength and craft, it bids adieu.
The spear, the axe, the dart they cast,
Shall find their mark and hold it fast.

In battles thick, where valor shines,
The hurler’s art doth draw the lines.
No clashing swords, no mighty bow,
But deadly skill to loose their throw.

Arms, like tempest, rend the air,
With cunning born of skillful care.
Through wind and storm their fury rides,
And in its wake, no foe abides.

Ellyn Grene, who’s name we cry

King and Queen with Eagle eye

Matthew and Fiamun grant you this day

A Silver Mantle in their stay