VII.
Woe! The King was mad! Most bitter woe!
He would fain his daughter wed! – Ah, no!
Vainly did poor Lura weep and plead:
Neither words nor tears the King did heed.
Did she not, said he, have golden hair?
Did she not succeed the ring to wear?
Could she these two facts deny? - Why, no!
Woe for Lura! Oh, most dreadful woe!
Now the court was paralysed with shock.
Would the laws of God, their King so mock?
All the kingdom reeled in disbelief:
Such an outrage must lead straight to grief!
"This will bring thee ruin, Sire!" they said,
"'Tis not legal to thy daughter wed!"
But the King had now lost every reason.
"Thwart my will," he cried, "And die for treason!"
Thus the frightened people, overawed,
Dared not to oppose what they abhorred.
Lura, in despair and desolation
Begged her sisters for their mediation:
"Speak with father – ask him sense to see –
He may listen to his family!"
Her entreaties were to no avail.
"What an act!" they cried, "Oh, what a tale!
Now 'tis plain as day – we should have seen
All along you wanted to be Queen!
Weeping tears to hide thy spiteful smile,
Just as doth the scheming crocodile."
So poor Lura was by all forsaken,
Left to face the path cruel Fate had taken.
"But," she vowed, "the day that I must wed,
I'll be far away. - Or I'll be dead."