The Madness of Heredith the King of Zilba

Heredith the king of Zilba In the sixth year of his reign, Fell in lust with Roseline Amelia The wife of the king of Spain. And what a misery he did found Since his eyes met with hers, That it really had him bound With chains behind unseen bars. Many a time on his throne Was he engaged in a dialogue —With no one but himself alone Speaking for a time so long! All day he hoped in his gloom That she'd someday be his, Even if that meant the doom To which he'd trade his peace. "If only she could just be mine", Was the line he always muttered; "O, if she and I could always dine", Was another he also whispered. But he couldn't have his way Any further than his obsessions, So he concluded on a very day That he'd take to confrontations. "Summon me my war men!", He yelled in his tempered fury; If only he could just discern That he was to become a history. And off he rode with them all In a return battle for the woman For whom he didn't care to fall To the sword of another man. When alas he drew his sword To slaughter Simon the king, Amelia for whom he came abroad Stabbed him with a broken ring. And there where he lay to die, He looked at her and smiled; "But O my Roseline, why, O why?" And in tears he asked and died.