When every word that Shakespeare wrote was true; when clocks for Caesar chimed and cannon roiled for Hamlet, sullen time brought forth a new Dies Irae – England quaked beneath the collective lash. Cromwell’s engines, smoke and frigid hate took all on Marston Moor; stout Rupert fell and Roundhead hounds howled poor King Charles’ fate. Cold iron guns bespoke the Old Ways’ knell. But spirits, sprites and love are Bard betold. Weird inns there are where heroes may abide. Fey rings pierce night. A fair maid may, if bold, find magic’s key on Ariel’s wild tide. Then Oberon’s dread folk will make their stand…to help the rightful king regain is land.  The classic bardic tale of the England that never was…