The King's Concern

Minor call of the baffled king,
Rang around the circling;
A sad chill in the ring,
Telling of disasters emerging.

The rooted nobles, a quartet,
The wisest in the islet,
Throbbng to the core did wait,
Pulsing the news of the state.

"War!" said he, that doth stir,
The kingdom in a bloody blur,
"The enemy marches at length afar,
Pray thee now to thy lucky star."

The lashes of the nobles' eyes,
Tear up to the brows up high,
The army unprepared to die,
What good do twinklers in the sky?

Flashing thoughts of blasphemy,
Like simmers of golden alchemy
"Die we all, sire!" exclaimed he,
A noble in evident agony.

"Our king, our lives, are under attack,
Weakness shall now be severly racked,
For this King of State has heavily lacked,
In the grim reality of foreign attack.

Then silence adorned the courtly hall,
The king's concern bourn by all,
The Majesty's death, the naton's fall,
The end was near, the end of all.