III.
One year passed, yet still the King did mourn,
Wring his hands, and pace about, forlorn.
In his grief, he seemed as if to drown,
Heeding not the duties of his crown.
"He must have a new wife," people said,
"One to turn his mind from she who's dead."
The King's advisers, counsellers and court
Urged him to give matrimony thought.
"Sire," they coaxed, "'think of thy country, too,
Our people need a Queen as much as you."
So the King agreed to take a bride
Such as his late wife had specified:
Beauty she must have, and golden hair,
And succeed her wedding ring to wear.
If these things were not in one girl met
There would be no Queen. His mind was set.
Messengers were sent out far and wide
For to seek a suitable young bride.
Soon the word had spread about like fire:
His Majesty a new Queen did require!
Gold-haired beauties from throughout the land
Came to try the ring upon their hand,
Maidens rich and poor, high-born and low
Joined a queue that ever seemed to grow.
Dukes' and barons' daughters draped in pearls
Lined up next to humble farmers' girls,
Creamy silks and brightly coloured tulles
Brushed against the plainest home-spun wools.
Now the castle thronged with noise and life:
Which fair maid would be the King's new wife?
…But, though many hundred damsels tried
None could fit the ring. – There was no bride.