The Deceiver came down like a wolf on the fold,
A dishonored apostle grown hateful yet bold;
Craving youth of the sceptre his bitterness grew,
Craving wisdom of crown he would seize what was due.
In the plenty of summer so verdant and green,
The land before Molok had constantly been:
In the misery of winter so barren and bare,
The land past his rising entwined in his snare.
A plague on God’s chosen by ritual and art,
His forbidden power a nation did part;
And a host did he gather by wile and allure,
A score of grim seasons that host did endure.
A domain marred by chaos, the Emp’ror’s to right,
And at God’s just rebuke he rallied to fight;
For five long years he clamoured and clashed,
With each battle fought another army was dashed.
It was Edras at last that war’s outcome revealed,
Where broken was tyrant who’d long been concealed.
And justice flew swift for his rapacious crusade,
And by blood at God’s altar his sins’ cost finally paid.
This poem was shown me twenty-four years ago, by a tutor in my employ.
At peril of a daughter’s ire, I would see it entered on her behalf; that is to say on behalf of Lady Saronu Yassavi.
In sincerest gratitude,
Lord Yassavi of Shalus
This is a poetic treatment of an inferred scriptural parable concerning Molok the Deceiver , while we do not have the substance of such a story, the fiction portal has an outline of his life and is explicit that Scripture is the only source of consequence concerning it.