A Writer's Wonderland [PDF] - University of Portsmouth

My Queen and My Bride
Oh, the diamond has shattered; you’ve torn the butterfly wing
And I hear them now. That dreadful sound! Like the voice of a sword hand sing!
And you, good sir, do you have no tears? Speak now or forever hold your peace!
Look! See clear and then pray do fear what has done to the sweet Alise?
Ah, my angel, my angel! How could you have died?
You leave me forever, my queen and my bride
She needs but an anthem, a march, a song from the gods to be sung
Our queen has forsaken us, she died far too young
And fiends! You crows! How dare you mourn her loss now!
You relish her death. Now your wish has been blessed. Dare the gods let this be allowed?
I know how you thought, how you cherished her wealth,
But you despised, despised her pride!
But my queen was too clever, even sick, still too clever.
So you prayed for her health that she died.
How could I then let you lead the march? Let you write the great song to be sung?
For it is you I shall blame, you murdered my flame! Who took my queen to die so young!
No! Stop! Hold your tongue! Let no song be sung! Let no march sound or bells toll,
That would not be right; there must be no sound tonight, less it disrupt the flight of her soul.
It must be silent all near, for I need to hear. There could be a laugh, a whisper, a sigh,
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