Ballad of the Barony of The
                           Stargate
                           By Mistress
                           Dierdre la Cleric
                           Written sometime in 1972
                           Transcribed
                           from Vol. 1, Issue 6 of the Two Towers Newsletter
                           By Mistress
                           Annes Clotilde von Bamburg, Stargate Historian
                            
                           From out of Scotland there arose
                           A race that wandered far and wide
                           At last they crossed the ocean tide.
                           The bright, shining land there found they chose.
                            
                           They bound up house and home and child
                           And set them on the burning beach.
                           “Brae Land!” they shouted, each to each,
                           And settled to tame that country wild.
                            
                           But still the wandering blood was strong,
                           And doughty sons still roamed that land,
                           They built them homes on mud and sand,
                           Brought fourth many sons. Their lives ran long.
                            
                           They wandered to the Southland flood
                           And fought for many foreign lords.
                           ‘Neath many banners lifted swords; 
                           On alien soil they shed their blood.
                            
                           But one refused to spill the blood.
                           He settled on the ocean strand.
                           He took a wife, and tilled the land.
                           She gave him a son, and it was good.
                            
                           He took his son up by the hand
                           And led him to the shining sea.
                           He said, “Myrrdyn of Rhys ye be,
                           And soon you must claim this lordly land.”
                            
                           Myrrdyn was sent into the North.
                           To Hyperborea came he.
                           But still he loved the Southland Sea,
                           And swear’d that he soon would journey forth.
                            
                           He learned the laws and wizardry.
                           His teachers there were witch and mage.
                           Then when Myrrdyn had come of age
                           He left them to find the Southland Sea.
                            
                           But, when in Ustenton he came,
                           He found no kin nor Scottish clan.
                           Barbarians roamed through that land,
                           And none there had kin of Myrrdyn’s name.
                            
                           Then Myrrdyn found a doughty man,
                           Basilim of the Argus Eye.
                           He took Basilim to the sea,
                           And showed him the silvern ocean strand.
                            
                           Then spoke Myrrdyn, “This land is mine,
                           A good and fairly place to live
                           To he who stands by Rhys I’ll give
                           A portion of land, so rich and fine.”
                            
                           “I’ll follow ye!” Basilim cried. 
                           “But own me neither land nor gold. 
                           I see ye are a leader bold,
                           And I would fain battle at your side.”
                            
                           Bailim said, “To win this land
                           We’ll soon need many trusty men.
                           I go to seek a goodly friend,
                           You’ll find him a stout and sturdy man.”
                            
                           Basilim went and raised the call.
                           Then Antelais Anrelte* came.
                           “Good man!” quoth Myrrdyn. “By my name,
                           An ye stand with us, Rhys cannot fall.”
                            
                           “I have but sword to offer ye,”
                           Quoth Antelais, the son of stars,
                           “But I will follow Myrrdyn far,
                           And battle for Rhys of Southland Sea.”
                            
                           Then Myrrdyn blew his siller horn
                           And many goodly lords arose.
                           They vowed to battle Rhys’ foes,
                           They swear’d it upon that siller morn.
                            
                           And of the ones that stood at hand
                           Were artists, craftsmen, nobles all.
                           Among the throng stood Mallengahl,
                           And Sheridan of the Donnel clan.
                            
                           Across the land he gave the call
                           And many gentle ladies came.
                           They vowed their faith in Myrrdyn’s name,
                           They swear’d it in Rhys’ ancient hall.
                            
                           And of the ones that gathered there
                           Were Shanahan, Vishaldyrne,
                           Tambryln of the clan Shaunty,
                           And Alfyrhynn Taurdinen the Fair.
                            
                           “Good folk!” cried Myrrdyn, “Ye shall be
                           My House, my Own; this land is thine!
                           We’ll build a House so fair and Fine,
                           And rebuild the ancient Barony!”
                            
                           “Myrrdyn, milord,” quoth Antelais,
                           “What banner shall our castle fly?”
                           Quoth Basilim of the Argus Eye,
                           “What standard shall grace our House this?”
                            
                           Then from the hall a voice was heard
                           It spoke aloud in ancient tongue.
                           To Myrrdyn’s ear alone it sung
                           And “Star Father blest” its only word.
                            
                           “What voice is that?” Basilim cried.
                           The elf word sounded but once more,
                           And in a sob lamented sore.
                           “The Gate to the Stars.” Was all it sighed.
                            
                           Then Myrrdyn leapt unto the floor.
                           His eyes were lit with siller light.
                           He called into the darking night
                           “Oh, speak yea again, I’d fain hear more!”
                            
                           But silence only answered him.
                           No more the elf voice raised its cry.
                           No more the haunting, sorrowed sigh
                           Came whispering out of shadows dim.
                            
                           Basilim cried, “An omen, Sire!
                           I know not whether ill or fair,
                           That cut across the darking air
                           And rippled the night with breath of fire.”
                            
                           The night still waited dark and dim.
                           As silence fell on silent room,
                           As Satan follows after doom.
                           Then Myrrdyn bestirred, and called to them.
                            
                           “My people,” said the Baron young,
                           I cannot ken this fateful word,
                           This message dire or dear we heard
                           Thus spoken in ancient foreign tongue.
                            
                           “But I shall claim this word to me,
                           And call it omen filled with light.
                           One silver’s word upon the night;
                           A star-crested banner it shall be.”
                            
                           Then Sheridan O’Donnel stood,
                           A pennant black she gave to him,
                           A-set upon a willow slim,
                           And standard on sturdy staff of wood.
                            
                           “A silvered Star shall be my crest,”
                           Quoth Myrrdyn to those waiting there. 
                           “The word that ripped the evening air
                           Bespoke only this: ‘Star Father blest’.
                            
                           “The second Word that came to me
                           In elven voice from long and far
                           Said only ‘Gateway to the Stars’
                           And ‘Stargate’ shall name our Barony.”
                            
                           Then did the noble throng arise
                           And raise the cup unto the name;
                           And thus Stargate to being came,
                           A star bright upon the sable skies.