VI.
Luralai – a princess once again!
She, so plagued in life with grief and pain,
She, a runaway, a straggle-tag,
She of broom and brush and lowly rag –
Now clad in a gown of gorgeous gold
Shimmering with jewels of worth untold,
Like the very sun, she seems to shine!
Such rare beauty seems, indeed, divine.
Awe-struck Faravel approaches now:
"Dance with me," he says, "fair princess, thou."
Just like so, the prince she does adore
Now leads Luralai onto the floor.
And they dance. Nobody else is there.
Nothing can divide the smitten pair.
Do they speak? Aye, volumes, with their eyes:
"We must love," they say, "or life despise."
Hours pass like seconds. Fickle Time! –
Even now the bells of midnight chime.
Lura softly murmurs, "I must go."
"Nay," the prince implores her, "Say not so!
Dance with me unto the break of day."
But the princess quickly slips away.
Faravel does now her steps pursue:
Down long stairs and shadowed courtyards through,
Down and down into the servants' hall
To the scullery and kitchen stall.
But, alas, the girl has vanished quite!
There's no damsel anywhere in sight,
Only that queer creature cloaked in fur.
Thwarted Faravel addresses her:
"Has a golden princess come this way?"
Lura bows her head. She answers, "Nay."