Page:The Galaxy, Volume 5.djvu/704

To a poor pretender, mean and base,
Unfit for place or sway:
That was the work of glamour and spell,
And the charm in a moment fled,
As the sceptre from his weak hand fell,
And the crown from his feeble head.
But homage true, at last I bring
To one of a royal line—
The King is dead! long live the King!
Said the Lady Jacqueline.

"And yet it almost makes me weep;
Aye! weep, and cry, alas!
When I think of one who lies asleep
Down under the quiet grass;
For he loved me well, and I loved again,
And low in homage bent,
And prayed for his long and prosperous reign,
In our realm of sweet content.
But not to the dead may the living cling,
Nor kneel at an empty shrine;—
The King is dead! long live the King!"
Said the Lady Jacqueline.

"By the one I held most true and dear.
And called my lord, my own!
I was set aside in a single year.
And a new queen shares his throne.
To him who is false, and him who is wed.
Shall I give my fealty?
Nay, the dead one is not half so dead
As the false one is, to me:
My faith to the faithful now I bring,
And the faithless I resign—
The King is dead! long live the King!"
Said the Lady Jaqueline.

"Yea! all my lovers and kings that were,
Are dead and hid away;
In the past, as in a supulchre.
Shut up till the judgment day.
False or fickle, or weak or wed,
They are all alike to me;
For the eyes no more may be misled,
That have looked on royalty!
Then bring me wine, and garlands bring,
For my King of the right divine—
The King is dead! long live the King!"
Said the Lady Jaqueline.

Phœbe Cary.