[It's early Monday morning, and in the foggy pre-dawn light, Bran's PCD turns itself on. The man is reciting softly to himself, his voice low and musical as he speaks the poem in old English. The PCD handily translates the verses, however.]
...Cast off then his corselet of iron
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Old poetry. Not a fan of epics?
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[Bran looks very amused.]
It's about a hero who kills big bad monsters.
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sacred Lord, on which side soever
doom decree as he deemeth right."
One of the oldest and greatest works of English literature, if my opinion of such things counts.
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the head of the earl, while all about him
seamen hardy on hall-beds sank.
You have taste. It's always been a favorite of mine.
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to the folk and fastness that fostered them,
to the land they loved, would lead them back!
I thank you, and must compliment yours as well. There are few worlds similar to my own. Most do not know the works I know.
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Full well they wist that on warriors many
battle-death seized, in the banquet-hall,
of Danish clan. But comfort and help,
war-weal weaving, to Weder folk
the Master gave, that, by might of one,
over their enemy all prevailed,
by single strength
A shame. There are many great poets of England, and Europe, who could use a broader audience.
You flatter me, [Pause, boyish grin.] Carmen, is it?
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Or maybe it just suited my mood.
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It is possible to provide security against other ills, but as far as death is concerned, we men live in a city without walls.
Never a truer statement made.
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Yes. Mortality is never so apparent, as when we're confronted with death.
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[Sirius doesn't know your silly muggle literature~]
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Really, what do they teach you wizards? It's by an English poet, at that.
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I didn't take the Muggle Studies class and I doubt my parents would have a book written about a muggle lying around the house.
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Please tell me Shakespeare rings a bell, at least.
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