📔 The Once and Future King

Life is blood, shed and offered. / The eagle’s eye can face this dree. / To beasts of chase the lie is proffered: / Timor Mortis Conturbat Me.

Shame to the slothful and woe to the weak one. / Death to the dreadful who turn to flee. / Blood to the tearing, the talon’d, the beaked one. / Timor Mortis are We.

The twilight fell mistily—it was the first of the autumn mists—and in the dimity the undispersed families of the tawny owl called to each other, the young with keewick and the old with the proper hooroo, hooroo.

[...] from the earliest time that he could remember, there had lain pleasantly in the end of his nose the various scents of mint—used to freshen the water in the ewers—or of basil, camomile, fennel, hysop and lavender—which he had been taught to strew on the rushy floors [...]