Enyo of the Ruins

Parody of Robert Browning's "Love Among the Ruins"

‘Neath the remnants of what men and ages broke,
I awoke,
Saw my troops of fleecy sheep spread out like clouds
On the ground,
And the waning sunset stretched toward Luna’s frame
Like a flame.
Now the sound of irksome bleating ever grows,
Bids me go
From the shattered ground on which a tower stands
And the land
That was once the site where kings and warlike men
Trod the glen.

As the bloody sunlight heaves his final breath,
Faces death,
And the smiling starlight crowns the dying sun,
Silver-spun,
How the toppled, ancient walls seem like they frown
On the ground
On which no one but a crude shepherd have stirred,
And his herd;
How the turret seems to stretch its jealous spires
For the fires
That have ever held their glory and their worth
Since their birth.

Though a multitude of men of might and means
Stitched the seams
Of this once-great city with a bloodied thread
Of the dead,
Now there only stands one pillar, high and proud
O’er the crowd
Of the doltish, docile lambs that bleat from fright,
Scared of night.
And how high she holds her granite, frowning crest
O’er the pests,
As though chagrined by the ruin, the decline
Wrought by time.

How the lonely, bitter turret heaves a sigh
To the sky
And must wonder why her rebel minions roam
From their home.
Now she oversees the the land they overturned,
Where once burned
The great fires of glad conquest, sanguine greed,
That would bleed
From the hearts of those she sheltered and controlled
To their foes.
By the greatsword’s edge they brought their golden feast
To the beast.

Not a single drop of guilty gold remains
In its veins,
But a sneering window frames the lunar world,
Like a pearl.
And against the light, a silhouetted face
Has been traced.
A boy slumps against the walls that bloodshed forged
Where men gorged
On their peasants’ bread bought from the spoils of war
Long and sore.
He knows not the poison in the air he breathes
This dark eve.

And as I turn to lead the griping flock’s retreat,
Now a sweet,
Lovely young girl creeps over the toppled stone
All alone
With her wild, bright eyes aglow for her true love
Slouched above
And awaiting her arrival to the head
Of the dead,
Goddess with her sneer that frames lovestruck loon
And the moon.
The young maiden stands o’ershadowed by the lair,
Climbs its stairs.

What a site for callow lovers to convene,
In the scene
Where the warriors, who preferred the shine of fame
To Love’s flame,
Made their plans to ravage, burn, and subjugate,
Spurred by Hate.
To see young love, ancient wrath so juxtaposed,
Unopposed,
Makes the wind’s low dirge seem a cacophony,
Noisily
Stirring up the slumb’ring ghosts of those who strove
To kill Love.

Author's Note

In my British Literature II class, my professor had us write a parody of a poem, and I chose Browning's "Love Among the Ruins."

I've tried to fix the "goddess" line in the second-to-last stanza and am not sure if I have. Does it break the rhythm of the rest of the poem? And do any of the other lines feel awkward? Thanks.