Canto 16: Siege of Malta

Malta of gold, malta of silver, malta of precious metal,
We shall never take you!
& from her ramparts a voice replied,
I am she who has decimated the galleys of the Turks
& all the warriors of Constantinople & Galata



I pledge a motion for the grand digress,
Which poems of this nature may include,
Some may question its appropriateness,
Yet others think the moment rather shrewd;
To all accounts
I offer further gloss,
Bless’d by those faithful founts, the Crescent & the Cross.

As we walk among these pages,
With a mind to phantsize,
Ghosts have willow’d down the ages
Forming phantoms in the skies,
As the cataclysm rages
Twix Axis & Allies,
We find the legacies of former times
Have influenced the finish of these rhymes.

The Knights of Saint John, & their swords,
Seek out new naval base
Departing Rhodes, crossing Whale-roads,
Like pirates at a pace,
To settle on a treeless rock & fortify its face.


War’s Promise

The Peacock of the world rose from his throne,
Wishing our land-lock’d sea a Turkish pond,
“The fish of Malta is the stepping stone
To Sicily & to the world beyond,
That obscure rock
Insults us & our queen,
Thus from their viper-dock we drive the Nazarene.

My finest force I shall employ,”
Added Allah’s deputy,
“These sons of dogs ever destroy,
Tho they earn’d my clemency
When I was young & full of joy
Thro my first victory,
& I allow’d them honour after Rhodes –
No more shall we suffer their vile marauds.

Our scimitars their throats shall slit,
My men prepare my fleet!”
Yearning credit, gurnning merit,
Gen’rals kiss jewell’d feet,
Then divan leave, planning the heathen’s ultimate defeat.


Call to Arms

Grave news flies to Grandmaster De Valette,
Tho’ days of armageddon clamour near,
From coming frays his faith shall never fret,
To him the infidel inspires no fear;
“Prepare the walls,
Cancel every corso!”
The clang of cannoballs rang thro Saint Angelo.

Across the world the summons sent
By ship & sweat-stain’d horsemen,
“Brave knights fly back to the Convent
Go fight beside your brethren!”
Soon many-a-foreign accent
With one voice sang, “Amen,”
Renewing vows at the Sacred Altar.
Each man determined to die on Malta.

Outside, in strangest summer rain,
Four thousand strong Maltese
Shall march & train with men from Spain,
As on the ocean breeze
Soft scented Turkish incense wafted slowly overseas.


The Muslim Landing

From watchtowers the warning cannon ring,
The Sultan’s fleet arrives as a vast fan,
With livestock & the still-green crops of spring
Many to Birgu & Mdina ran;
Dead beast & dung
Poison’d the Marsa wells,
Songs of devotion sung, too secret witches spells.

An amarda sail’d round Gozo,
To show that the sea was closed,
Then at the Marsascirroco
Made anchorage unnopposed,
As skiffs ferried his war-cargo
Their old commander dozed,
Untroubl’d by the course of coming days,
On him, soon, sure, the Sultan should heap praise.

Dreamings woken by Mustapha,
First blade of the army,
“My young Pasha, what’s the matter?”
Yawn’d adm’ral Piali,
“This is no time for sleeping, we must force the victory.”

19th May

The Fall of Fort Saint Elmo

Dawn lifted rosy wave-breaks to the shore
Where swept a moment of sickly slaughter
For stubborn struggles, say the laws of war,
May never be allow’d normal quarter;
The Knights prepare
To make their final stand,
One crippl’d in his chair, sword tightly in his hand.

Breachward the Janissaries pour’d,
Pride of the Sultan’s power,
All inside gutted on the sword
Yet not one Knight would cower,
For, still, the Maltese Lion roar’d
For one murderous hour –
Until its throat was cut, then stone-dead fell…
Mustapha stepp’d into that groaning hell,

“So small a son has cost us dear,
Then, what price the father?”
More shots men hear, them very near
Five knights fled thro water,
Guided by Toni Bajada safely, cross the Harbour.

June 22nd

Pivotal Point

By boat & tower came the great assault,
The Port of Castille reeling neath the blow
All seeming lost, but for that thunderbolt
The gods upon our mortal minds bestow;
A lanteen bridge
Links them to Senglea
As tall on smoking ridge more Sapahi appear…

Then charge like an electric shock,
Sanguinary the slaughter,
On knife-point pois’d to run amok
All thro’ the Knight’s headquaters,
Tward Armageddon tick’d the clock,
Mothers, sons & daughters
Rush’d forth to join the menfolk in the fight,
Yoked to the swords of Rhodes, each soul a knight.

They heard the sounds in Sicily
& pray’d for De Valette,
Tho seventy his energy
Many-a-Muslim met,
A sea-rock in a raging storm, the scourge of Mahomet.



The Last Assault

As mines explode in animosity
Toni Bajoda shot up in his bed,
Tho’ wounded he’d discover’d energy,
Men, from the sacred infirmary, led;
All gallant friends,
Tho’ most could barely stand,
Upon this strength depends the freedom of a land.

As knight shields fill’d walls warp’d by mine,
Courageous Callachio
Join’d by the Maltese at the line,
Equal with corragio,
Toni took toll of twenty-nine,
His knife well-loved the foe,
So much an arquebusier took aim,
& sent shot flying in a flash of flame.

Tho’ wounded, in a world of pain,
Toni did not falter,
Brave Muslim bane heaping his slain,
Sacrificial altar,
Fed by force indivisible, “I shall fight for Malta!”

August 18th

Gran Sossorso

One hundred days of daily hearing, “When?”
Sicily’s Viceroy sends vital relief,
Below Mellieha disembarks his men,
Mustapha strokes his beard in disbelief;
“How many ride?”
“Nigh twenty thousand sire,
Combing the countryside!” “The army may retire.”

All thro’ the night the camp was struck –
As the Maltese heard them yell
Them for more attackers were mistook,
Standing arms, set to repel,
Then saw to sea the foe had snook,
& rang triumphant bell,
Amplified across the purple clover,
“The infidel has fled, the siege over!”

Come dawntint were bells still ringing,
Folk stepp’d outside the wall,
Some dance, some sing, some tear-shedding
On bleeding knees did fall,
As all about black bodies burst, curs’d by the murd’rous maul.


The Relief of Malta

Mustapha heard the news he had been fool’d,
Just six thousand the Sicilian host,
Piali’s caution soon was over-ruled,
“Ten thousand land & meet us up the coast!”
How felt the Turk
When forced back to the fray
For more of war’s black work, with peace so close that day?

Dispirited men once brave are,
Heads cloudy with dying fear,
As galloping down from Naxxar
Swerve the fresh-faced Chevalier,
Men from Mdina & Mgarr
Now on the flank appear,
Enough to finalise the rising doubt,
Cohesion turns to rabble, turns to rout.

Some fled with friends, some limp alone,
Some crawl the coastal crack,
This shelv’d sandstone bares blood & bone,
Christ’s sword plunged in their back,
Turks plunge out to their safety to a shrill, “…& dont come back!”

Saint Paul’s Bay
September 8th

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