THE BLAMELESS PRINCE
To hear it told. I am of God accurst!
Of all his hated, may he smite thee first!"
With that wild speech she fled, nor looked behind,
Hasting to get her from that fearful room,
Past the meek nuns in wait. These did not find
The sick one's eyes—yet staring through the gloom,
While her hands fumbled at her heart, and Death
Made her limbs quake, and combated her breath—
More dreadful than the Queen's look, as she thence
Made through the court, and reached her own array
She knew not how, and clamored, "Bear me hence!"
And, even as her chariot moved away,
High o'er the Abbey heard the minster toll
Its doleful bell, as for a passing soul.
Though midst her guardsmen, as they speeded back,
The wont of royalty maintained her still,
Where grief had been were ruin now and rack!
The firm earth reeled about, nor could her will
Make it seem stable, while her soul went through
Her wedded years in desperate review.
The air seemed full of lies; the realm, unsound;
Her courtiers, knaves; her maidens, good and fair,
Most shameless bawds; her children clung around
Like asps, to sting her; from the kingdom's heir,
Shuddering, she turned her face,—his features took
A shining horror from his father's look.
Along her city streets the thrifty crowd,
As the Queen passed, their loving reverence made.
"'T is false! they love me not!" she cried aloud:
So flung her from her chariot, and forbade
All words, but waved her ladies back, and gained
Her inmost room, and by herself remained.
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