A palace can a prison be
Golden armlets
From a chieftain's horde
Shackle me
A Princess, but not free.

On the walls the banners fly
White horse on green field
Lifted high.
Who saw the snake go slithering by?
Only I

White satin and old lace.
Ermin fur soft as silk.
Laid aside in the fire’s glow.
I saw the fire in your yellow eye.
Felt your breath as I passed you by.

When our horses matched each other
Skylarks broke from cover.
More than cousin, more than lover
Now the raven is your brother.

An old man in a wooden chair
An old king in a golden hall.
Sunk and bent, with cobweb hair.
Beaten eyes, and vacant stare.

Across the downs the horsemen thunder.
Obedient to your command.
But in your hall another plunder
Is taken from your hand.

Silken belt and velvet hood.
Bow, and smile, and mean no good.
But I know where you have hid
My father’s sword.

Had I been a changeling
With a warrior strong and tall
These white hands hard
From spear and shield
I would sheath that hidden sword
In your reptile heart.

A brazier streaming fire
Into the night.
Gilded hall lost in gloom
A moth-eaten dragon in a tapestry
A cauldron of scalding tears.

- Varda