Arcadia, City of the Atavians

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By: Delgarth Posted on: May 30, 2005

Up high, above the green lands of home,
The city built on clouds of stone,
Through verdant forests, where shy deer do roam,
Lying in solitude, the Atavian throne.

Away, away, from prying eyes,
Beyond the echoing grizzly cries,
Not even Cyrene can match this glittering prize.

Where King Iasius amidst his maps and tomes,
Avoiding his wife in pursuit of aged Lore,
A scholarly eye for the uses of loam,
But forgetting the love that guided before...

With a soft, melancholy sigh,
Isidore walks slowly by,
While night, steals away the pale blue sky.

And in the confidences of the night,
With perfumed notes revealing half-whispered plots,
Loveliness incarnate, a dark, elegant delight,
The Queen and her captain, meet in undisclosed spots,

Is loneliness Clytemenestra's only excuse?
So wrapped up in books, no King might deduce,
His wife work her charm and brave Maros seduce.

Did she not ponder upon her young Prince's fate?
Whose blue-green eyes and mischievous looks,
Stamps Atavian royalty, unmistakably upon his face,
Beloved of Lords, Ladies, servants and cooks.

Messing around on his little play horse,
Where is the love that did form the source?
Foretelling sadness, yet on his course.

Now what is that thump? Shrieking and shouting?
Ah, merely the fair Princess Atlantia sparring,
Who dressed in men's armour, prefers the sportier outing,
Warfare versus prettiness, neither unbecoming nor jarring.

But who would marry such a daring young thing,
Who can neither dance nor crochet nor sing,
A beautiful red rose with a bold prickly sting.

At wonderful odds, with her elder frail brother,
Who takes after the father, in compassion and depth,
A debilitating illness, hiding an ardent music lover,
No more bright and handsome, only cheerlessness left.

Is Prince Dardaenus a sign of Arcadia's course?
Once blossomed, now riddled with troubled remorse,
And less laughter is heard now, echoing through doors.