ORFEO AND ETAIN or      "JUST FOR GRINS" a politically correct romance (if those terms are not mutually exclusive) by Glen Fitch dedicated to Joan B. Gratz      Dear guardian of the age of innocence, Of unicorns in pastorals left behind, To you the fragrant scent of...

iv    The land was poor. She little knew of seeds. Yet she was just and everyone ate bread. One morning on the shore amid the reeds She found a body lying almost dead! A man it was! She raised his bleeding head. So swollen, bruised, it gave her quite a fright! But pity filled her...

ix      The Queen and maids at dawn one harvest time Rode to the orchard. Joy was in each heart To pick the ruby cherry in its prime. Beneath the grafted tree they left their cart. Up ladders to the clusters sweet and tart They balanced woven buckets. Others willed To sing and dance,...

xi    And when sweet juices ran from lip to chin And waists felt fuller than a bursting sack They piled up leaves and heather to begin A morning nap. Etain lay on her back Each finger yet to lick, her lips to smack. In time her lace-like lashes veiled her eyes. They slept. Until at...

He went back in and wept upon her sleeve. She woke and smiled. "Back to that grafted tree Tomorrow noon I must return. I'll leave     You then. I hope I won't be long. But do not grieve xviii              "For me, my love. Where you are I will be." "It's true," he thought. "Her...

xxi      Then Orfeo descended on the bed Of leaves and moss. His fury made him rave. From tearing grass and hair his hands grew red. "Alas, my Queen, my wife, I couldn't save!" The Steward came. Each to the other gave A shoulder, crying, rocking till they bowed Beneath their grief. In...

For three long years he pined so for Etain. His lips were chapped, his feet were bruised and sore. His beard grew long. So hoary was his mane! His arms waxed strong and yet his body waned So lean. Who would have thought he once was King? Yet with his harp he sang a sad refrain And through...

xxvix      When he awoke his forehead throbbed in pain. Until he found his harp he stumbled round. No shadow fell. He heard a hunting strain, A thunderous din, the sound of horse and hound. And peering though a nettle bush he found A hundred knights all dressed in snowy white On steeds...

They halted near a river. Orfeo Observed an agèd boatman. "Will you row Me to the other side?" he kindly asked. "What? Ferry you across? Fool! don't you know Those shiny waves give no reflection past    The shore and once on land no shadow will you cast? xxxiv      "Few go unasked...

xxxviii      With both his hands he struck the gate. "Who dares to come untaken?" someone cried. He pounded once again. He couldn't wait To see his dear Etain. "Let me inside! It's cold out here!" the king-as-beggar sighed. "Who's at the gate?" he heard a voice lament. "A harpist,"...