Her task being done
The woman robed in blue,
The Virgin’s sky-blue colour,
Regards the docile beast
Whose head lies in her lap
His horn against her breast
And she is lost in dolour.
That morn her mother called to her
And said she had been named
And was the one who had been born
To snare the magic unicorn.
For all the traps and wiles of men
Could not the unicorn subdue.
But a maiden chaste and pure
Could its mystic power endure.
One who by the Virgin blessed
For having carnal sin unknown
For three time seven years since birth
Had gathered much celestial worth.
Then to the church wherein the priest
Gave her the flesh and blood of Christ
But not until the doctors wise
Had with their hands and with their eyes
Declared her to be still intact
And ready to perform the act
Of taming the sought-after beast.
Then the holy sisters came
Who virgins were, but brides of Christ.
They could not as they were so wed
Dare to hold the hornéd head.
For only one not so betrothed
Could in the Virgin’s blue be clothed.
Thus so adorned she had been led
And with a chain of purest gold
Fixed to a tree in forest glade
Where the unicorn could her behold.
The day passed by and she had prayed
For the Virgin her to strengthen.
Soon she saw the shadows lengthen
And rustling in the bushes hear.
Then did the unicorn appear.
Most like a horse but with a horn
That rose erect between its eyes
And struck her heart with unknown fear.
So white it was, not like snow
But like the essence of the stars,
Something pure no man could know.
It struck its hooves upon the ground.
Sparks flew; it tossed its mane,
And though her ears could hear no sound
In her mind it named her name
And said to her in some strange way:
“I cannot resist your power.
“We both are pure, I cannot harm
“One so like me. But in an hour
“I shall be dead. Pray let me calm
“Myself upon your lap. Be not afraid.
“ You, though unknowing, have betrayed
“The both of us, as you shall know;
“For men will with their violent lust
“Reward us for our foolish trust.”
With that the noble unicorn,
That had no pair within the Ark,
Laid its head upon her lap
As skies grew dark.
Then from the groves wherein they hid
Came men with spears and pointed dart
And drove them to the creature’s heart
While she cried out for what they did.
And as the blood spread o’er her thighs
She saw the madness in their eyes.
She knew that once the creature died
She would soon become a bride.
Then as the most brutish of the clan
Hacked the glittering horn
From off the dead beast’s head
She swore she’d never share his bed.
But had she more choice than this sad beast
That now lay dead, and due to her?
Anything precious men defile;
What would they do to her?
So when they her from tree released
She humbly asked to hold the horn
That from the unicorn was torn
If they, the victors, were so pleased.
Yes, they were indeed delighted
To see such prizes now united.
She held the horn against her breast,
It still glowed with a mystic fire,
And then with purpose dire
She plunged it in. And such sweet rest
O’er came her and in much sweet light
She saw the Virgin calling her
To leave the things that had befallen her.
And as the face of God she saw
The hunters saw the horn no more.
© David Williamson 2006
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