The onslaught of work spewed forth by the semester grew greater and greater, and it seemed to Eirik that attempts to get ahead of it were succeeding less than they had before. But the semester was mortally wounded, and the brave skald knew that he had only to fight a little bit longer. On December 12, final victory was gained. The skald had conquered, and the semester lay dead at last. Then Eirik composed this verse:
Black Knight’s challenge at bridge was first.
Though “none shall pass,” a knowledge contest,
a test of essays, on Chrétien’s romances,
was faced in battle and defeated it lay.
Old Icelandic, the other exam,
with proud paradigms was proffered next:
translations galore were laid in ink;
I braved this exam with bloody wound,
when the slippery ice had sought its due.
The final battle was Friday morning
—many then marched to meet their wyrd—
with rising sun o’er Reykjavík,
at last laid low was the Lit-Corpus!
O’er beers and burgers, the brave rejoiced.
Copyright © 2014 Eirik Westcoat.
All rights reserved.