*Elid's Den*
There is another hole. That has no name
of my coinage. My most secure cavity.
It is devoid of widely-known entrance;
and invisible, without openings for light:
I go hence during day, at gloaming times,
to rest myself, in a pent cist of stones,
out flat, walled close; under grasses, not in sight;
but, now and then, when horror's overly strong
for anyone of normal humorous bent,
I lie too long, spent, in my sweat, clung to
by the covering I'm still bearing from life;
what's left of a living corpse trailed by cerements.
Dreading discoverers' harshness, I fear me.
Should you stumble on the grave, look off;
I'd rise up soon, smelling too rank, I know,
for measured conversation.
Let me wash!
I would cleanse my body and my clothing.
Forgive the full wetness of my attire
if we met at such time. I could explain;
and yet's far better that you said no words,
offering greatest courtesy, being discreet,
chancing consideration for a man
who has lost the skill of acting human.
I do not wish it to be thus, you know,
remembering cold, for which I'm not prepared.
[Elidius is one of the names of one who may have lived at some time after
the Roman period on Scilly, or, as it then seems to have been called,
Ennor. There is no evidence of him apart from the earlier name of St
Helen's island, where it is said he may have been buried, Insula Sancti
Elidii. His feast day is 8th August. Until now he has had no hagiographer.
This poem, assuming it to be genuine, must be associated with the poem
"Elid's cave" which I posted to PoetryEtc 1 October 2014 and perhaps with
the poem "I am now almost without energy" posted 10 September]
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