Fairy story

To be certain, he'd gone for a long enough way,
When they stopped by the priory's quiet.
And then he put aside some appeasement for time,
Pausing to strip at his stained saddle bags.

It was as they'd told him,
One of the calm places
In Cumbria with uncalm ends,
So he knew what to do with the glass box within.

Such a prince - he's the eldest, not the runt, of three -
And his talents and powers are where you can see them,
In his, like Arthur's, scabbardless, sword,
In his, like Talbot's, armed, company,
In frank blue eyes like Richard's,
Or Laszlo Corvinus',
Eyes atop the shape of Kornilov - you see.

But you have a night train to join and you catch it,
You knew - did you mind? - that was the last you'd see.

The prince cannot read and marks charters with crosses,
Or crowns, or some strange rampant creature he's put
In his fancy, when heralds put it in his arms;
So the curse that must frown from the priory lintel
Is read only, silently, by the dark cardinal,
Who's the old king's bastard, and a wicked man.

The cardinal has no hand telling this story,
But Powell and Pressburger say what the curse said.

The prince led the way down the priory aisle -
Forget about bridesmaids - the unhappy brideless
Are faithful and fatal bachelors for love
And bachelor doesn't for nothing mean knight,
So the prince's knight's rearing, well it could not pale him,
Standing beside the void in the glass box.

You are going away in a very strange carriage,
You sit in the midst of an ill-fitting train,
Such mien, such attendants, for king's or queen's daughter,
Even in the shadows...as small difference made
As the tablet in water you sink, mouth, eyes, glutting,
Your stare in the rest that seems such sure aggression.

The prince has displaced you in your display case,
His last gasps are silking up the demure crystal,
The cardinal's planning the regency council,
But only the farrier, local informant
Know's quite what's awry -

That his liege lies cold in sleepless beauty's eye.