‘Twas a day like any other, here
When the stones gave way before the waves
To King Harlon’s misery.
Affairs of state delayed too late
Brought ruin to the King-
“Bring my lords to dine,” spake he,
“A meal is just the thing
“We need to rule this land aright.”
And so, his bidding carried out,
His lords came to the old throne hall,
Each of them voicing doubt.
“Your Grace,” the seven lords spoke
In a chorus without song,
“This hall grows weak, unstable, ‘gainst
The surf it shan’t hold long.”
And then, when Mad King Harlon did
Open his mouth to speak,
The far wall and the floor gave way
With a loud, hideous shriek.
Now Mad King Harlon rules the deep
From under fallen stones,
What was his hall is now his tomb,
His throne sat by his bones.
This is the third of three poems that all tell part of the same story- the tale of King Harlon the Mad and his castle, Thronehold-by-the-Sea.