The Tragic Tale of Rosamund Clifford

The Tragic Story of Rosamund Clifford By some urge to learn more, beckoned, I read up the life of Henry the Second. With Thomas Becket he picked a bone. This well known fact I'll leave alone. Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine became his wife and brought much gain, but in one matter not enough. The lack was relieved by a piece of fluff. In charm and beauty sans pareille was Rosamund, a bloom in May. Lest her appearance eyebrows raise he hid his love in a secret maze, Or so he thought but his wife got wind that he and someone else had sinned. Thus it was that the wily queen found her way to the hideaway scene. "By dagger or poison, take your choice," said the queen with rasping voice. No true event but a pure invention was this encounter, let me mention. To Hereford this rose they sent there in a convent to repent. Still young and fair, alas she died. For shame once more, she had to hide. Far from any royal palace in stone were written words of malice: "In life her scent was sweet to smell, but not so now, the truth to tell." Hic jacet in tumba Rosamundi non Rosamunda, non redolet sed olet, quae redolere solet.