King’s Ballad: Part 1, First Draft

The crown upon the king’s brow sat
Oh prideful the attire!
Hard gems ne’er seen a fierce combat,
His eyes yet burned with fire.

The king upon a god’s throne sat
To preside over all
With corners soft, too wide by half
So weighted ne’er to fall.

The throne upon a staircase rose
To steal its climber’s breath
Its carpets tread by foreign feet
That drag in civil death.

Today the stairs bear maidens white
Who seek a dowry fair,
They make a neatly dragging line
And shuffle under his glare.

“Young maidens white, I say to thee,”
A page reads for the king,
“You all should have my sound applause!”
The page accords this thing.

The king smooths down his handsome brow
And judges first the first,
“A trifle taught,” he thinks aloud.
“She suffers of a thirst,”

But this was by her father said,
When none speak but the king,
A father and a peasant less,
“Please listen to her sing.”

She starts in with a saddening tune,
Back home a lauded tale,
No kind ear finds it in this court,
Her song of lovers hale.

“This song of yours is fine,” he lies,
“I hold its merit dear,
But both of thee spoke out of turn,”
He gestures then and sneers.