PS 3539 r::=: 
 
 .H575 
 
 ''" The 
 
 Copy 1 
 
 — Princess 
 and 
 The Fool 
 
 Flora Watrous Thomas 
 
The Princess 
 
 and 
 
 The Fool 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1922 
 ALL FOREIGN RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 Flora Watrous Thomas 
 Pittsburgh, Pa. 
 
C1A604007 
 
 KG 16 '22 
 
 
 .rw^ 
 
 \ 
 
The Princess and The Fool 
 
 A Romantic Ballad of the Middle Ages 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 In northern wilds, in years long past, 
 A kingdom lay, great, fair and vast; 
 Where lived a king, both brave and braw. 
 Who fought o'er much on ''Border Law." 
 By mountain steep, by sea or plain, 
 His legions fought with all who came 
 Unheralded. Those who would dare 
 This mighty King — death found them there. 
 
 A princess, fairer than the sun, 
 Whose hand no prince had ever won, 
 Make glad this King's relax-ed hours 
 In "Castle Hall" or garden bowers. 
 So now the story must be told 
 In song and verse. The theme is old. 
 The whole wide world is but the school 
 To teach: "We can not love by rule." 
 
Part One 
 
 THE CAPTIVE 
 
 The "Border" strife was quickly won, 
 And gathered in the evening sun 
 Are foes and victors. As they wait 
 The opening of the castle-gate, 
 The sun's bright gleam on armor'd steel. 
 The spur's loud clank from rowel-wheel. 
 Strike dread and awe to the captives' ear; 
 They fear — and know not what they fear. 
 
 The vanquished foe', with heavy tread. 
 Are pushed and pulled or roughly led 
 O'er bfidge and moat, through portal wide, 
 As in the court the victors ride. 
 The noisome cell for some await 
 Scarce caring what shall be their fate ; 
 And some— ah ! some with ling' ring sigh, 
 
Will thank dear Heaven they can but die. 
 
 The King rides on in stately pride 
 
 With knights and page on either side ; 
 
 Then pauses as if deep in thought, 
 
 As if in vain the answer sought; 
 
 He wheels about and face to face 
 
 Now scans the vast and crowded place, 
 
 Nor stirred not from this grim survey 
 
 Till darkness o'er the courtyard lay. 
 
 The great carved doors are all flung wide 
 
 And armor'd men in state preside — 
 
 Like statues more than anything — 
 
 To wait the pleasure of the King, 
 
 Till when, at last, the inspection o'er, 
 
 He rides within the open door. 
 
 But one there is 'mong the captive foes 
 Stands quite aloof, whose courtly pose 
 Gains condescension, for the King 
 Has noticed him and bids them bring 
 This captive to the Castle Hall. 
 
 All 
 
Of the pride of ancient race 
 
 Is shown by poise of head; his face 
 
 Is but the index of his heart — 
 
 The King may slay but knozv him not! 
 
 THE FOOL 
 
 The Castle Hall with lights aglow 
 On carven knights, with spear or bow, 
 Who from their nooks look blankly down 
 On royal state and kingly frown. 
 Each courtier round the royal throne 
 Quakes in his heart and fears to own 
 Himself the victim on whom first 
 The kingly mood and wrath may burst. 
 
 While thus the lords both quake and fear, 
 
A martial sound falls on the ear ; 
 The clank of spur on marble floor, 
 The thud of feet by studded door ; 
 And up the Hall by captors pressed 
 A youth is led — who is possessed 
 Of fearless eye, and noble mien, 
 And who before the mighty King 
 Stops still with looks calm and serene. 
 
 The courtiers round the Hall await 
 With careless hearts the captive's fate; 
 And watch with thoughtless eye the mood 
 In which the kinglv mind might brood 
 With evil ire ; but the captive guest 
 Inspires respect in the royal breast. 
 "How now, ye minions, dare ye bring 
 A, captive bound before this King!" 
 The scathing words scarce die away 
 Ere band and chain between them lay. 
 "Who art thou, knave, that with a band 
 Of fellow knaves fight on my land? 
 Dost seek some fancied wrong to right 
 
Which I — the King! in royal might 
 Have claimed is just? How dare ye fight 
 Within my state!" But firm and cool 
 The answer: "Sire, / am a fool," 
 
 "A fool? Ha! knave, dost care to die? 
 Canst jest with such a King as I? 
 "A fool's prerogatives, O sire. 
 Are jest and repartee; the lyre 
 For song and pastime's gentle mood - " 
 ''Go!" roars the King, ''and bring the hood 
 And suit of motley. Until he tells 
 Whence he doth come, the cap and bells 
 Shall him adorn. Go, too, and bring 
 The lyre - I fain would hear him sing." 
 
 The motions of the royal hand 
 Disperse the soldiers. Courtiers stand 
 About the "Fool" - their fears forgot 
 In glee o'er this strange captive's lot. 
 Scarce does the sound of martial tread 
 
In passing cease, ere there are spread 
 
 The suit of glaring stripes of red 
 
 And hood with bells before them all. 
 
 A shout of mirth rings through the Hall 
 
 As page and courtier work the change 
 
 That makes a handsome youth look strange. 
 
 The King looks on in pleased surprise, 
 Amazement gleams from courtier's eyes, 
 As forward steps with courtly grace, 
 A jester gay with rougish face. 
 "Thou wearest well, my lordly knave. 
 The clothes of one who's in the grave. 
 Now take the lyre and tune the strings. 
 Fain would I hear how my fool sings." 
 
THE PRINCESS 
 
 One knee he bends before the throne, 
 On the other was the lyre upborne; 
 They list in hushed expectancy 
 What e'er the singer's song may be; 
 A sweep of chords - the walls resound - 
 A master hand the lyre had found; 
 An upward glance - the song forgot ! 
 For, with a wildly throbbing heart, 
 There bursts upon his wondering sight 
 A maiden fair - as rare and bright 
 As morning sun on shades of night. 
 
 She glances at each bowing knight, 
 But gazes longer at the sight 
 That meets her eyes at foot of throne 
 With lyre upheld as if to sing 
 The praises of this mighty King, 
 A fool whose eyes compel her own. 
 ''Who is he? What is he?" her heart 
 
In fluttering: silence asks. "Yes, what?" 
 
 The King, in pompous, stately pride, 
 Receives and seats her at his side. 
 "Now strike the lyre, the sound prolong. 
 For we would listen to thy song, 
 O knave and fool ! The Princess here 
 Would have thee sing of love, but I 
 Of war's keen strife and those who die 
 For glory. Make thy choice, nor fear 
 My anger ; it matters not to me 
 If song is all a song should be." 
 
 With eyes alight with inward fire, 
 He strikes the chords which now inspire 
 A greater theme than war's alarms, 
 Or soldier's death, or call to arms. 
 A moment's pause - then on the ear 
 
His voice rings rich, and full, and clear; 
 
 The love-words so impassion him 
 
 That e*en the King's cold eyes grow dim. 
 
 Of love and war the songs are sung. 
 The lyre is mute. The walls, which rung 
 A moment since with music's charm, 
 Are silent now. A wondrous calm 
 Is o'er the King. The Princess lies 
 Back in her chair and softly sighs - 
 A light of glory in her eyes. 
 The King bestirs him from his trance, 
 The "Fool" is worth his maintenance. 
 "Here, page, my fool must rest and sup, 
 So take the lyre and fill the cup." 
 
 End of Part One 
 

Part Two 
 
 A Week Later 
 THE GARDEN 
 
 The morning sun in splendor shines 
 On flow'rs and shrubs; on clinging vines 
 And lofty trees, where fountains play 
 Their merry tunes in feathery spray; 
 While statues gleam from shaded nooks, 
 And bridges span the tumbling brooks 
 Which feed the fountains' gentle flow, 
 Then wander on through banks where grow 
 The wilder blooms; while marble steps, 
 O'erhung with vines of glowing depths, 
 Lead down to where a lake is seen 
 Midst amber light and shaded green. 
 More lovely yet in moonbeam's ray 
 Than in the brilliant light of day. 
 
The roses in the garden swing 
 Their blushing faces, as they cling, 
 And spread their rich and sweet perfume 
 To mingle with the lillies' bloom. 
 Within a bower by sun caressed, 
 Where roses dense are closely pressed 
 In clustering groups, and breezes blow 
 A richer scent to those below, 
 The Princess sits, her face alight 
 While listening to the Fool recite 
 His ardent verse. His mellow voice 
 Makes all within her heart rejoice; 
 As if in some Elysian dream 
 She listens to love's rapt'rous theme. 
 Then, with her hand pressed to her heart, 
 She whispers: ''Tell me who thou art? 
 Thou art not what thou seemst to be, 
 Come, tell just what thou art — to me?" 
 
 He takes the lyre and softly sings 
 In answer to her questionings : 
 
"To thee? Bright star, if I but dare! 
 Should we a mighty secret share, 
 My task would be far, far too sweet 
 To lay what's hidden at thy feet. 
 Thou knowest not what thou dost ask 
 Of me - yet how sublime the task, 
 If I but dare!— If I but dare! 
 
 "To thee? Bright sunbeam of the air. 
 
 The world would be most wondrous fair, 
 
 If I could tell the hidden pain, 
 
 The joy, the woe. Thou wouldst disdain 
 
 To listen to so crude a tale, 
 
 And all my art could not avail - 
 
 If I but dare! -If I but dare!" 
 
 Scarce does she breathe - so low the song, 
 
 That barely to her ears 'tis borne; 
 
 She hides her glowing face between 
 
 Some hanging roses, as a screen. 
 
 She lifts a rose from off her breast. 
 
 Where 'neath her hand 'twas closely pressed, 
 
Then, crushing out the perfume sweet 
 She flings it, dying, at his feet. 
 The fading rose is held aloft, 
 And in a voice both clear and soft 
 He chants again a wondrous lay 
 That steals her very soul away. 
 
 "Dear heart, the faded rose I hold— 
 
 A rose so pure and dear to me — 
 To some deep recess of my soul 
 
 It breathes a message, love, from thet 
 The rose that withered on thy breast 
 
 I clasp within my hands and sigh: 
 'O, rose, thou wert too fondly blest 
 
 To rest upon her heart and die - ' 
 
 My rose, my lovely rose. 
 
 "I press the rose close to my lips — 
 
 And breathe a prayer to Heaven for grace- 
 Its petals soothe my soul and spread 
 
 Their ling'ring fragrance o'er my face. 
 To me a fadeless rose thou art. 
 
Thy memory a sacred shrine; 
 I kiss the rose and on my heart 
 I lay it down, thou rose divine - 
 
 My rose, my lovely rose".' 
 
 A silence lies so deep and still 
 
 That all her senses leap and thrill 
 
 To his superb, magnetic will. 
 
 At length she goes, without a word, 
 
 Too strangely and too deeply stirred 
 
 To say farewell. She leaves him where 
 
 The roses' perfume scent the air. 
 
 '^Music by Charles Wakefield Cadman. 
 'Published by Oliver Ditson Co. 
 
THE SERENADE 
 
 The goddess of the evening sky 
 Remounts her starry throne on high, 
 And throws her brilhant, silver gleams 
 On lake and dell, and flowing streams; 
 The nightingale sings to the night 
 Where hedges gleam in silvery light; 
 About the garden's moonlit glades 
 The flowers throw dew-laden shades, 
 And odors, richer than in day, 
 Float out on night's illumined way. 
 
 Within the strong, old castle tower. 
 Where rests the Princess in her bower, 
 The strangely, witching, midnight hour 
 Finds her awake ; her thought is deep - 
 How shall this end? The moonbeams creep 
 Through climbing vines and softly peep. 
 Upon her couch the Princess lies. 
 
Her trembling form so racked with sighs 
 
 That tears bedim her sleepless eyes. 
 
 While her young heart in sorrow beats, 
 
 A melody her spirit greets, 
 
 As out upon the night is borne 
 
 A voice — his voice — in love's sweet song: 
 
 "May thy dreams be, oh gentle flower. 
 As radiant bright as on thy bower 
 The brilliant beams shine from above; 
 So dream of this bright world of love. 
 So dream of this bright world of love. 
 
 "Bright lies the land where thy dreams be; 
 By dreamland shore, dream thou of me. 
 Where we may wander o'er the strand - 
 So dream of me in thy dreamland, 
 So dream of me in thy dreamland. 
 
 "I sing to thee, in these bright beams, 
 Of love and bliss in thy sweet dreams; 
 
Dear heart, to me thy dreams belong - 
 So dream of love's bewitching song, 
 So dream of love's bewitching song."' 
 
 Fain would she rise and show her face 
 
 To one whose song, so full of grace 
 
 And meaning too, has thrilled her heart; 
 
 But 'twill not do, 'twere best to part 
 
 Forever now than trust to one 
 
 Who thinks a princess lightly won; 
 
 So with a kiss, as light as air, 
 
 Blown to the singer waiting there, 
 
 She murmurs soft in sheer delight, 
 
 "My Fool -my Prince -MY KING! goodnight. 
 
 ON THE LAKE 
 
 The crimson sun in glory sets 
 At close of day. The soft wind frets 
 And sweeps the lake in rippling waves, 
 Reflecting back the brilliant rays 
 
In myriad diamond-sparkling plays. 
 An island in the midst is seen 
 Where flow'rs and willows gently lean 
 Out o'er the water's glist'ning sheen. 
 The birds now swiftly homeward fly 
 Across the splendid western sky; 
 And mingled with the glowing scene 
 Are blue and gold, and shaded green. 
 While yet the sun gleams from the West 
 And wondrous nature's at its best, 
 There falls upon the list'ning ear 
 The sound of song - now far, now near. 
 
 "Float gently o'er the sunset lake, 
 Float gently on, float gently on. 
 Past isle and wood, and willow'd brake, 
 Float gently in the evening sun. 
 
 "Float gently on, oh bark so fair, 
 Float gently on, float gently on, 
 Love's theme is in the glowing air, 
 Float gently in the evening sun. 
 
"Float gently in the sunset glow, 
 Float gently on, float gently on, 
 Forever would we onward go, 
 Float ever in the evening sun." 
 
 The island's emerald fringes screen 
 The singer with their depths of green; 
 But fitful breezes softly waft 
 In view at last a stately craft; 
 A cloth of gold sweeps o'er the sides 
 As on the rippling waves it glides, 
 While in the bow with golden oar 
 A boatman guides it from the shore; 
 And low o'er all is spread a sail 
 Of silken tissue - light and frail. 
 
 Upon a blue and golden seat 
 Reclines the Princess. At her feet 
 The Fool, clad in the suit of stripes 
 And hood with bells - the best of types 
 Of what a fool should be, and more! 
 For must the art of lover's lore 
 
Be added to the jester's store. 
 Regally is the Princess dressed, 
 For him she would appear her best — 
 This strange yet most mysterious guest. 
 
 As evening's glowing, crimson light 
 Falls on the bark, an artist might 
 Be glad to paint the deep'ning shades 
 Ere crimson light to darkness fades. 
 The Princess, deep in thought the while. 
 At last looks down with sweetest smile 
 And asks: "In thy homeland, tell me, 
 O knight, be women fair to see? 
 Do knights and princes living there 
 E'er war for love and maidens fair? 
 Dost have a king who kingly rules? 
 Hast queen, and courtiers, and - fools ? 
 
 He deeply thinks, with lower'd head. 
 How much to say, how best 'tis said. 
 He takes the lyre and tunes a string— 
 Oft'times to chant, sometimes to sing, 
 The story of a foreign king. 
 
THE STORY 
 
 "Long years ago a king held sway 
 0*er kingdoms vast— far, far away. 
 The people loved this righteous king 
 For his good deeds; they honored him 
 His just decrees, and through the land 
 Was joy and peace. His velvet hand 
 Though soft was firm as his command. 
 
 "The Castle Hall oft rang to song 
 Or jest, or contest of the strong. 
 The grander bouts — or tourneys' war- 
 Were all the people ever saw 
 Oi battle with its bloody spray; 
 The petty spite, or lover's fray, 
 The tourney swept them all away. 
 
 'The heir of this great kingdom's throne 
 
Had reached his manhood — fully grown. 
 Full many a maid with beauty's snare, 
 And others still with minds as rare, 
 And greater dames with rank and art 
 Each sought to win the Prince's heart; 
 Yet all in vain was beauty's power. 
 It but enthralled him for an hour. 
 
 "One niglit within the castle gate, 
 A courier, from another state, 
 Told of his king — whose greater fame 
 Made others seem but small and tame; 
 Of valiant deeds in some great war, 
 Of hunt and chase, and border law. 
 Of a princess, fairer than the sun, 
 Whose hand no prince had ever won, - 
 Until the waning shades of night 
 Broke in on morning's wak'ning light. 
 
 "The prince determined, then and there. 
 To seek and win this princess fair; 
 And for this purpose called a band 
 
Of loyal knights to his command, 
 
 Then set him forth in beauty's quest 
 
 In armored form with lance at rest. 
 
 For many weary days they went 
 
 Through wooded wilds — vast in extent — 
 
 Rode over plains, climbed mountains high, 
 
 At last they from those heights could spy 
 
 The land they sought, were pleased 'twas nigh. 
 
 "Late was the day the little band 
 Came down into the stranger's land; 
 They'd scarcely reached the level plain 
 Ere from all sides fierce soldiers came 
 And put the most of that small band 
 To spear and death. One in command 
 Did deign to say : ' 'Twould be in vain 
 For outlaw knaves to e'en explain.' 
 The prince was lost! If that was war, 
 Where was the honor or the law?" 
 
 The tale is told. 'Tis growing dark, 
 And dim has grown the fairy bark. 
 
The Fool's fair face is strangely white 
 Seen in the darkening shades of night. 
 The Princess smiles and softly sighs: 
 ''Thou art that prince in fool's disguise,' 
 
 End of Part Two 
 
Part Three 
 
 THE BALL 
 
 Now, in the spacious Castle Hall, 
 Where guests attend the King's grand ball, 
 And where is heard the merry sound 
 Of song and jest, the courtiers round 
 The Princess stand and wait their chance 
 To lead with her the opening dance. 
 The pillars white are richly twined 
 With flowers of every hue which bind 
 The silken streamers. Fountains play 
 Their waters bright in feathery spray. 
 And bowers green make hidden space 
 For converse in a quiet place. 
 
 The Princess stands in mute despair; 
 The one she seeks is hidden where 
 He cannot see her winning glance— 
 
Her wish he led her in the dance ; 
 He leans beside a flower screen 
 And sees not, though himself is seen. 
 The thought that others have the right 
 To dance with her in measuies light, 
 So fills his heart with jealous pain 
 That from his head and form he fain 
 Would tear the stripes that make for him 
 A lower role, when at the brim 
 Fain would he drink of love's delight, 
 And claim the dance by lover's right. 
 
 He turns to see who wins the prize, 
 And gazes straight into her eyes. 
 She beckons him close to her side, 
 And, with a courtesy low to hide 
 Her blushes, takes him by the hand 
 Past knights and lords and ladies grand. 
 
 Is this intended as a jest? 
 
 A fool! where only titled guest 
 
 Had right to stand or lead the way 
 
In stately dance or measures gay. 
 
 The guests fear this a grave mistake, 
 
 But quietly their places take 
 
 And watch the Fool, with coolest gaze, 
 
 Who leads the Princess through the maze. 
 
 The King laughs loud and deep, and long, 
 (In truth his voice is big and strong) 
 To see the Princess and the Fool! 
 Do doubt she used him as a tool 
 Some lords with ardent hearts to cool ; 
 But little recked he of the right 
 The Princess gave the Fool tonight. 
 
 And now the dance is of the past, 
 
 The Fool has found his ''place" at last; 
 
 Upon the low steps of the throne 
 
 He sits in silence all alone. 
 
 But when the King calls for a song, 
 
 He wakens chords both rich and long - 
 
 And sings to her in that great throng. 
 
"O thou who art so bright a star, 
 Who beamest from thy throne afar, 
 Let thy bright Hght in glory shine 
 O'er this fond heart - O star divine ! 
 
 "O thou who, from thy starry throne, 
 May deign to choose my love, alone. 
 Let thy bright eyes like jewels shine 
 O'er this fond heart - O star divine ! 
 
 **0 thou who shinest from afar, 
 Who art so glorious a star. 
 Let our two souls responding shine 
 Through mingled love - O star divine 
 
 An instant's flash - as sunlight flies - 
 
 Came from those bright and downcast eyes 
 
 But 'tis enough now to inspire 
 
 A war song for her kingly sire - 
 
 The other might arouse his ire. 
 
THE SONG 
 
 "A baron rode his milkwhite steed 
 
 Far o'er the hills away; 
 For he would help a maid in need, 
 
 And must be there by day. 
 So he rode him fast, and faster yet, 
 The way with perils was sore beset, 
 While from his lips this wild refrain 
 Kept time to steed, as loud it rang, 
 •Hi, ho, tra la de lay !' 
 
 "So o'er the hill, and o'er the plain, 
 
 He galloped his steed afar; 
 Until the night was on the wane. 
 
 The portals of day ajar. 
 His brain and brawn were all afire, 
 To gain the place of heart's desire; 
 So what cared he for outlaws bold. 
 He's filled with love and true as gold, 
 'Hi, ho, tra la de lay !' 
 
"But hark! a call of shrillest sound - 
 
 A horseman barred his way; 
 A thrust of spear and on the ground 
 
 The man before him lay. 
 The steed dashed on, nor stay'd him not 
 As sped he from the evil spot, 
 There challenged back that wild refrain, 
 As e'er it rang, and e'er again: 
 'Hi, ho, tra la de lay!' 
 
 "Again the call both loud and shrill 
 
 Awoke the echoes round ; 
 The air of moor, and sea, and hill, 
 
 All trembled at the sound. 
 But on he sped, nor stay'd him there; 
 A knight must ever do and dare; 
 So what cared he for outlaw's call, 
 True love for him was one and all - 
 'Hi, ho, tra la de lay!' 
 
"The rosy beams of morning came, 
 
 The castle was in sight; 
 The sun aglow and hills aflame 
 
 Gave welcome to the knight. 
 His love was deep and true and strong, 
 A will was his to right a wrong; 
 As sounds of war about him rang, 
 He raised his spear and loudly sang: 
 'Hi, ho, tra la de lay !' 
 
 ''There promptly gathered at his side 
 
 A band both good and brave; 
 No matter what the war betide, 
 
 They're with him to the grave. 
 So bold was he in times of strife. 
 He cared for neither death nor life ; 
 So as he sang the wild refrain, 
 The men replied with might and main, 
 'Hi, ho, tra la de lay !' 
 
 'The baron led to check the raid, 
 And fierce the fighting grew; 
 
For he was lighting for a maid, 
 And they — they hardly knew; 
 They Hked the war's bewild'ring fight, 
 They loved the brave, courageous knight ; 
 So when the day was but begun 
 The war for love was ably won - 
 'Hi, ho, tra la de lay!'" 
 
 The swinging rhythm of the lay 
 
 Scarce into silence dies away, 
 
 Ere there is heard a trumpet's blast ; 
 
 The King springs from his throne, aghast! 
 
 The guests turn pale, the Princess faint, 
 
 Each calls upon some favorite saint; 
 
 A messenger shouts through the Hall, 
 
 "A legion's just without the wall!" 
 
 While King and guests make merry, Fate 
 
 Has led an army to the gate. 
 
THE TRUCE 
 
 On this same night, while in the Hall 
 
 The King and guests enjoy the ball, 
 
 The soldier guards relax their watch 
 
 And sit or lie beneath an arch. 
 
 The distant sound of revel comes 
 
 But faintly— as of distant drums. 
 
 The moon's pale beams the dark clouds hide, 
 
 And leaves upon the night wind ride. 
 
 And though the sound, not of the ball. 
 
 Nor that of any night-bird call, 
 
 But something more comes to the ear, 
 
 That, mingled with the distant cheer 
 
 Of song and dance, scarce causes fear 
 
 Within the soldiers' breast. The light 
 
 From lowering sky obscures the sight 
 
 Of distant things. The castle lies 
 
 Unguarded 'neath the clouded skies. 
 
 And not until the legions wait 
 
 Outside the castle's mighty gate, 
 
Did guard or yeoman really know 
 
 What made the sounds on night winds blow. 
 
 Now all is haste! for to and fro 
 
 The soldiers rush for spear or bow; 
 
 And on the castle's battlements — 
 
 Where for awhile the elements 
 
 Had had full sweep — the signs of war 
 
 And preparations fiercely are 
 
 In progress now, and where hot lead 
 
 May soon be poured on foeman's head. 
 
 A herald by the postern gate 
 
 Holds up a flag — the truce of Fate! 
 
 And now a parley must take place 
 
 To know just why this foreign race 
 
 Should come wnth every sign of war 
 
 Up to the very gates. What law 
 
 Or cause or any other right 
 
 Had they to creep up through the night 
 
 For hostile purpose? 'Twere as well 
 
 Within the Castle Hall to tell 
 
The cause of this array. If one 
 Before the mighty King will come 
 His just decree he'll then proclaim 
 Consistent with his well-known fame. 
 The heralds bow, then quickly turn 
 And thus the conference adjourn; 
 Each goes to his respective place 
 Aggression written on each face. 
 
 End of Part Three 
 
Part Four 
 
 THE EMPEROR 
 
 An aged man, with noble face, 
 Holds up his hand with kingly grace, 
 And straight within the gateway he- 
 Unmindful what his fate may be— 
 Goes on heyond the mighty wall. 
 On through the court to Castle Hall. 
 A herald waits - he lists with awe 
 The stern command: "An Emperor 
 Is here for kingly conference," 
 Bends low the knee and hastens hence. 
 
 "An Emperor!" the herald cries; 
 The King descends in mute surprise, 
 Awaiting at the foot of throne 
 A title higher than his own. 
 And up the Hall in regal guise, 
 
The aged man, with flashing eyes, 
 Comes on and stops - calm and serene. 
 Stay ! When and why another scene 
 Runs through the King's dazed mind just then 
 He knows not; yet, somehow, 'twas when — 
 Ah! 'Twas the Fool! He glances where 
 The Fool may be, he still is there - 
 There still in his accustomed place, 
 With hood and bells drawn o'er his face. 
 
 The Emperor's voice rings clear and strong 
 To every ear in that great throng: 
 "Sire, I'm not come to w^ar or strife; 
 But one, far dearer than my life, 
 I hear is held w^ithin these walls ; 
 E'en now, mayhap, he vainly calls 
 For help in his behalf. I'm come 
 To have thee give me back my son!'' 
 
 "Thy son? Thy son? What meanest thou? 
 What's this thou askest me? I trow! 
 Ye profer me a strange request. 
 
/ keep unknown as captive guest 
 
 A prince? Ha! 'tis too good a jest - 
 
 Jest -jest? captive?" The puzzled King 
 
 Perplexed and dazed o'er this strange thing 
 
 Turns round to face the fool, who sits 
 
 In calm disdain, as one whose wits 
 
 Seem to have flown ; but 'tis a ruse 
 
 To hear what more the King may choose 
 
 To say, and how' the aged sire 
 
 May now accomplish his desire. 
 
 "Aye, aye, my son! 'Tis no fool's jest 
 
 Tm asking thee in my request. 
 
 One of those knights, so good and brave, 
 
 Whom thou didst wound, found not a grave 
 
 Upon the field, but soon returned; 
 
 Then all my soul within me burned 
 
 At war where honor had no place - 
 
 Such tactics were a sore disgrace!" 
 
 The King stands mute and tries to see 
 Just where the tangled thread may be; 
 
For in his mind a fool and lyre 
 Seem strangely mixed with the Emperor's ire. 
 Yet he would try to unwind a spool 
 Whose thread seems twined about a fool. 
 
 THE PRINXE 
 
 The Emperor waits ; when on his sight 
 A vision comes, almost too bright 
 For mortal being, e'en though one 
 A Princess be - bright as the sun. 
 She stands in stately, graceful pose, 
 Her fingers twined about a rose, 
 And sometimes it does softly rest, 
 Sometimes is crushed against her breast. 
 He shades his eyes to shield his sight 
 And gazes there — an old man's right — 
 Then says: ''Oh I thou alluring one. 
 Who winnest and leavest men undone, 
 I pray thee tell, where is my son? 
 
"Where is my son who came in quest 
 Of thy great beauty?"' He stops, lest 
 She may turn away. Beaut}-'s spell 
 Has cast its charm o'er him as well 
 As though he were some younger man. 
 Her low sweet voice like music ran 
 Through his old veins as some rich wine. 
 "Thou askest me where son of thine 
 May be? iMayhap I could tell thee. 
 I'm sorry, sire, "tis not for me 
 To say." A downward glance - a smile - 
 To where the Fool endures the while. 
 
 "So thou, so beautiful, so fair, 
 
 Wouldst see a father's keen despair, 
 
 Couldst tell him how, and when, and where 
 
 He'd find his only son ! 'Tis well ! 
 
 I thought a woman's tongue would tell 
 
 All she may know. To thee I bow." 
 
 Then with sarcastic, courtly grace 
 
 Chagrin and awe upon his face, 
 
 So bends his knee. He turns him now 
 
To face the King — quite straight and cool. 
 But all the King can think is : "Fool - 
 Fool -FOOLl'^ His folly, too, is here 
 And likely now to cost him dear. 
 At last in desperation he 
 In angry tones cries: ''Come to me. 
 Thou Fool!" Quietly the Fool arose 
 And, throwing off the jester's clothes, 
 Majestic stands in his young might. 
 A goodly prince - fair to the sight. 
 
 "My son - my son!" the Emperor cries. 
 "Aye, sire, I'm here," the Prince replies, 
 And wonder round the great Hall flies. 
 The King, amazed but anxious, stands, 
 His robe of state grasped with both hands; 
 But lighter is the kingly crown 
 A moment since seemed weighted down. 
 
"ALL'S WELL" 
 
 "Now," shouts the King when all is still, 
 "Why this 'fool' trick? I take it ill! 
 That thou hast played it more than well, 
 *Tis not for me, alone, to tell. 
 When I did ask thee in this Hall 
 What thou wert called, a 'fool' - that's all 
 Thou wouldst reply to me. Though I 
 Didst threaten thee that thou shouldst die, 
 Thou still repeated that reply." 
 
 "Aye, true." The Prince before the King 
 Now stands beside his sire. The ring 
 Of his young voice, raised not in song 
 Or jest, compels the listening throng. 
 "Aye, while this heart in anguish beat 
 O'er such strange ways of war, defeat 
 Was doubly worse to me - I ! who came 
 To woo and win. How would my name 
 Appear when I in fallen glory stood? 
 'Twere better far the stripes and hood. 
 
"A fool was I who thought to find 
 
 As peaceful land as that behind 
 
 Me lay. Aye, FOOL who shouldst have sent 
 
 A courier with my intent 
 
 That the way prepared might be, 
 
 So / - a prince of high degree — 
 
 Should be received. Thy blame? Nay, nay, 
 
 O King! If such rules be thy way 
 
 Of war, we must forget them on this day. 
 
 The King, all smiles, stretched forth to clasp 
 Their hands within his own strong grasp ; 
 And then he calls the Princess down 
 And roars, between a laugh and frown: 
 "Thy skill seems greater than mine own 
 In seeing that which should be known 
 To me. Things that were strangely queer 
 I'm seeing now. My vision's clear!" 
 
 The Princess comes and blushing stands, 
 The rose still held within her hands; 
 Her robe of golden tissues meet 
 
In shimmering folds about her feet; 
 From golden hair and matchless tliroat 
 Great rays of light from jewels float; 
 But greater far the light that flies 
 From hidden depths of azure eyes. 
 
 She sweet'ly smiles, then takes the rose 
 And, with a kiss coquettish, throws 
 It to the Prince, who, on one knee, 
 Clasps both her hands. Adoringly 
 He offers her a throne's high state, 
 To share with him an Empire's fate. 
 She bids him rise and proudly stands 
 Beside her Prince, while holy bands - 
 Commanded by each royal sire - 
 Were now proclaimed by cassock'd friar. 
 There by the royal Prince's side 
 She is a fair and lovely bride. 
 
 The Emperor sits upon the throne 
 Beside the King. And this is done 
 
That all within the Hall may see 
 The state of him whose son is he 
 Who sought a maid, bright as the sun, 
 Whose heart and hand he fairly won 
 By song and verse, and lover's lore, 
 In garden shade, and sunset shore, 
 In Castle Hall, and moonlit dells, 
 When still he wore the cap with bells. 
 None but the Princess then could see 
 That though a fool a prince was he. 
 
 The heart is bound by love's fond rule 
 The whole world o'er; and this the school 
 That taught 
 
 The Princess and The Fool. 
 
 The End 
 
Squirrel Hill Printing Company 
 
 Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 
 PUBLISHERS