EPILOGUE
So this story ends, as many do,
With the wedding of two lovers true.
Never was a prince and his princess
Blessed with such enduring happiness,
That e'en now the storybooks still tell
The tale of Luralai and Faravel.
As for certain other persons' fates,
I record as History dictates:
Lura's sisters – that kind, gentle pair -
Through their lives didst not too badly fare:
Daramina wed a handsome duke
Far above all but her own rebuke;
Mirabelle a noble earl didst win
Thrice that lady's age, and rich as sin.
Other trials or triumphs of those maids
Time's obscurity forever fades.
As for their poor father, the mad King,
Lura's flight did him to reason bring,
Bitterly he cursed the fevered spell
That so nearly damned his soul to hell.
To a monastery he did repair,
Spending his last days in humble prayer,
Seeking to with God be reconciled
For the wrongs he did his youngest child.
Yet, perchance, it was all meant to be:
Fortune must defer to Destiny.
Hardship, grief and woe will surely pass;
Love must triumph. Ever it were thus.
So concludes my chronicle. - I fain
Wouldst recount it all to thee again,
For there be no stranger fate than hers:
She, who once was known as "Thousand-Furs."
...
THE END