Sorrow Deep

Weeping Queen (1788-1864) by John Watson Gordon

“Fair Lady, tell me the cause of thy sorrow?”

“My King and my Lord, there is no trouble.”

“But thou weep. I see even now the stain of it upon thy milken cheek.”

“I know not of what thou speak.”

“Harken thy ears to my plea and confess all. See, my Lady, mine service is thine own.”

“Tis nothing.”

“Then I shall fell every city and scorch every forest, roll every head and blot out the sun and moon and all the stars of Heaven for thy nothing.”

“I—No, I cannot say.”

“But you must!”

“I say I cannot!”

“For the sake of all that is good and true and holy, for the love of the Lord and all his legion hosts, pray tell what thorn has pierced thy side. How be it that my Queen despair of life in this, the flower of her youth. Mighty Britannia, heiress of this Great Christian Kingdom, mother of my seed and cause of all my breathes, lay thy petition at my feet. Else take this sword and send me hence to our Creator, that I may intercede for thou in His heavenly throne room. Perchance He can dry thy dewy eye.”

“I… the bread’s gone dry.”