Thus read the Queen: till now, her injured soul
Of its forlornness had not felt the whole.
Now all her heart was broken. There she fell,
And to the skies her lofty spirit fled.
The wrong of those mute words had smitten well.
A cry went up: “The Queen! the Queen is dead!
O regal heart that would not reign alone!
O fatal sorrow! O the empty throne!”
Her people made her beauteous relics room
Within the chamber where her consort slept.