‘On Quantock Hills’: A Poem by Andy Moody

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On Quantock Hills

On Quantock Hills, as Skylarks sing aloft,
A humble pilgrim walks on ways of old,
In morning light, with air so still and soft,
The book held in his hand doth gleam of gold.
He sits to rest and contemplate his soul,
But senses ancient darkness stirring nigh;
A dragon buried deep in earthen knoll,
Whose writhing form first cast the hills on high.
As flame and scale now rise to overwhelm,
Our pilgrim stays his fear to face the harm;
He utters sacred words to higher realms,
And grasps the dragon firmly in his palm.
His guiding light of virtue quells the fray,
And over heathered hills, he makes his way.

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Andrew Moody teaches and studies the art of classical riding in London, UK. He follows a traditional pathway of learning that was established in Renaissance riding academies, enriching his horsemanship by studying fine art drawing, early music, historic dance, and ancient philosophy. Andy is currently engaged in part-time doctoral research at Durham University, exploring the choreography of riding and equestrian ballet in the 16th century.