The Fair Lady Paris
There once came a figure on a road,
Bloodied, battle-wearied and bent from his horse,
Who met some peasants by the wayside
And asked them the way to a castle,
The castle of the Fair Lady Paris.
For he'd heard tales of her compareless beauty,
And how her castle and fair land was much besieged,
And this knight wished to ride gallantly to her aid
Even if it be his last act.
So the peasants offered him water to revive him,
But the exhausted, broken knight refused,
And pleaded instead to be put on his way
To the Fair Lady Paris.
"Over rivers of furious tempest,
Across acrid deserts of the troubled soul,
To lands far and wide with strife and bedivilment",
The peasant's told the knight.
"Only then will ye find the sunshine lands,
Shining through the hope lost lands,
A knight must march so bold
If he seek to find the Fair Lady Paris."
The knight revived as much as his beaten and tired body would allow,
Thanked the peasants heartily,
And returned to his quest at full gallop.
The peasants watched the disappearing thundering form
Of horse and knight with wonder, admiration and some dismay,
For once he had no doubt been the most gallant of knights so bold,
A most valiant avenger and resplendence aglow.
But now the battles and enemies had taken their toll,
And still the knight rode on,
For he'd heard tales of a fair maid's beauty,
Of the undiminished valour of her heart and realm,
He'd heard of her struggles to maintain her lands so fair,
And her protection would be his mission for evermore.
So the peasants took comfort,
Yes the faded knight would ride on,
Through storm and tempest,
Thirst and scorched earth,
For as long as it took,
If he could but once just glimpse
The Fair Lady Paris.