THE QUEEN DEPOSED.

I was the queen of Karl, a northern king:

Amazon Olga, and I rode his Ban,

A stallion in the royal ring

Who would not bear a man.

And in Ban's saddle did I feel the pains

For my first-born, the king's sole hope, his heir;

My Karl himself would loose the reins,

Would take me up the stair.

Low was the murmur of the royal troops

Below, I saw the tapers’ twinkling light;

I heard a cry — “My queen, she droops!”

Then fell eternal night.

No more was Olga queen for any king;

The pathway round a throne she could not tread,

Nor triumph in the royal ring —

The boy she bore was dead!

The cloister hers; she chose the cloak and hood,

And beads of olive-wood, a pouch for alms;

So begged she, Christ, for thy dear rood,

Laus Deo sang thy psalms!

Why am I here? This country is my king's;

The lovely river, wooded hills above;

Old St. Sebastian's church-bell rings —

There flies the silver dove

That flitted by the day we came to praise

Our gracious Mary for a granted prayer;

Heralds, trumps, the same gay maze

Of troops — King Karl is there!

Laus Deo with a child, and with his mate —

She wins the throne by bringing him a son:

Babes make or mar our queenly fate —

My woman's life is done.