The King of Muses

As oft the sun doth chase the moon around,

So too, interred then leavened, is this tongue:

Awakened as a noble king discrowned,

The songs of his esteems must needs be sung.

When, O Sublimity, thy stately bondman durst

Encroach upon thee, true still to his lord,

Thou think’st he chanteth things accurst,

Then sculp’st thou with his offal new accord.

Triumphant feast thou mak’st by tragic law    

The meady taste of blinded suicide

Upon thy tongue     and such depraved guffaw

Doth fill thy lung until thee woe betide.

And when thou need’st a king of muses ‘gain,

He wilt assume o’er his bedeviled reign.

Reviews

[emipoemi]

Uf.....this had it all going for it: mastery of the archaic language, mastery of the form, then, if I may be so bold to say, Line 5 has 2 syllables too many, Line 7 has 2 syllables too few, and the final lines has the verb conjugated in second person when it should be in third. But other than that this is beautiful.