Death-Song of Conan the Cimmerian
“The road was long and the road was hard
And the sky was cold and grey:
The dead white moon was a frozen shard
In the dim pale dawn of day:
But thief and harlot, king and guard –
Warrior, wizard, knave and bard –
Rode with me all the way.
The wind was sharp as a whetted knife
As it blew from the wet salt seas;
The storm wind stirred to a ghostly life
The gaunt black skeletal trees:
But I drank the foaming wine of life –
Wine of plunder and lust and strife –
Down to the bitter lees.
A boy, from the savage north I came
To cities of silk and sin.
With torch and steel, in blood and flame,
I won what a man may win:
Aye, gambled and won at the Devil’s game –
Splendor and glory and glittering fame –
And mocked at Death’s skull-grin.
And there were foeman to fight and slay
And friends to love and trust:
And crowns to conquer and toss away
And lips to taste with lust:
And songs to keep black night at bay –
And wine to swill to the break of day –
What matter the end be dust?
I’ve won my share of your gems and gold,
They crumble into clods:
I’ve gorged on the best that life can hold
And Devil take the odds.
The grave is deep and the night is cold –
The world’s a skull-full of stinking mould –
And I laugh at your little gods!
The lean road slunk through a blasted land
Where the earth was parched and black,
But we were a marry, jesting band
Who asked no easier track:
Rouge and reaver and firebrand –
And life rode laughing at my hand –
And Death rode at my back.
The road was dusty and harsh and long,
Crom, but a man gets dry!
I’m old and weary and Death is strong
But flesh was born to die.
Hai,Gods! But it was a merry throng –
Rode by my side with jest and song –
Under an empty sky.
I’ve heard fat, cunning priestlings tell
How damned souls writhe and moan,
That paradise they can buy and sell
For gold and gold alone.
To the flames with scripture and priest as well –
I’ll stride down the scarlet throat of Hell –
And dice for the Devil’s throne!
I faced life boldly and unafraid,
Should I flinch as Death draws near?
Life’s but a game Death and I have played
Many a wearisome year.
Hai! to the gallant friends I made,
Slave and swordsman and lissome maid –
I begrudge no foot of the road I strayed –
The road which endeth HERE!”
Written by: Lin Carter
Art by: Jess Jodloman
First published in Glenn Lord‘s Howard fanzine The Howard Collector (no.17, v. 3, no. 5), Autumn 1972.
This poem is supposedly the last work of fiction related to REH’s Conan the Cimmerian and the Hyborian Age.
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