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Britomart Writes from Malecasta's Castle
from Book III, the Faerie Queene
Dear Father,
Four years now I’m looking for the face
I saw in your mirror. Merlin says
I will found nations, prophesies a race
of kings. Destiny arranges my days
like seasons. At night I sing the old lais
and wonder how your life would be
had you sons, or a daughter less
strong than I am. Sometimes by means of memory
I imagine myself in my own country.
Always I win many battles, holding
the sword as you taught me
(even in dreams the metal ringing).
I recall the sins—pride, greed, jealousy—
the companions of heirs, you said. Being
so chaste, I am often alone. Now a stranger
calls me beautiful and I find myself smiling.
Tonight I will sleep without armor,
expecting no danger.
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