The Hoary Old Wizard of Græygaug

“Over my warming instruments

Burning and bubbling with intellectual passions

I sit and stare,

Over my eyes lie white hoary hair”,

Observes the old wizard of Græygaug lair.

To mix those potions that bubble and boil

To create knowledge itself,

This is the task bespoken down

To that wizard of ill perceived health.

Sallow and wan, with cloak blowing strong

Rising over the moors of Glenspawn,

Walks the wizard

Hunched but strong,

In the province of Graymorsel, long.

The light bringer himself

With wisdom of all eternal self

Has gifted these instruments to me.

These tools and books - the most masterful of all:

Tools in the great wizard’s circular chambre small,

And books overflowing atop tables, rampant down the hall;

In the great murky moors and swamps,

Whereso lies tower Græygaug.

“Ingredients for finest health,

Knowledge for eternal wealth,

Wisdom to know all and thyself!”

Chanted the lean wizard of Græygaug.

“Devotion when you are alone,

The will to build up your great throne,

Those fires may let the living world know,

The tomes record those who let all grow!”

Bellowed the burning-eyed wizard of Græygaug!

With pinch of mercury and sulphur,

With the composition proper,

A beam of white, above her

Cascades the tower’s topper.

The zenith of tower græygaug

Erupts with violent light,

The old and weary wizard

With burning pupils bright,

Uses the world around him

To serve his saintly knight;

“The librarian of Earth,

The wisdom bringer’s light,

Deserves the ultimate,

Substance to enlight!”

“Though his books have made me grave,

My disciplines are never slaves.

Though his tools have me callous,

My knowledge is all knowing.

Though I was once was only a slave,

My life I now own, until the crave.

Though my hands are rough and horny,

They’ve created art unknowing.”

The old wizard of Græygaug, bold

Delivers his potion unto the throne,

With three great swigs, the liquid’s gone,

The fuel for internal fire - come.

With this great potion,

There came a change,

A convalescence of a descant range;

The ability to view the strange and new

With an impassioned and mutable view.

And so was rewarded upon the old wizard,

Of the tower of Græygaug:

A castle of his own,

His own golden throne,

And a big bag of gold,

For use in

Graymorsel province.