Phoenix
by Dale J. Sprague
Variations of Shakespeare
The Phoenix and the Turtledove
Proem
Long ago, it was said that the Phoenix, a legendary bird, would periodically fly to a faraway country, whereafter building a nest of aromatic spices, it was consumed in flame, and from the ashes a new Phoenix arose, and once again sought the Turtledove, and its dream of true love
Let the bird of last singing sweetly from afar, herald the truth and its trumpet be, the song, upon whose melodic aires prudent wings will linger long
And beware!..you shrieking crow! Fowl precursor of the fiend, soapstone for the devil's scythe, if to this vision, you do not draw nigh
For if these formal words should be banned, every hawk with tyrant wing will be free to wet its claw, save the eagle, feathered regal of free'will, keeps its funeral rite, strict to its own law
Even let the priest in heavenly white, skilled in funeral's music rite, be the death'divining swan, unless of course, in the eagle's law, the priest observes a glaring flaw
And you again!..stringent crow, that your ever'dark species perpetuates, only for yourself do you give and take..amongst our mourners, take heed!..and go
Now let the song of the wise begin, for love and its constancy is dead. The Phoenix and the Turtledove long since fled, from a self'consuming flame instead
Two lovers loved, that love of two had its nature but in one. Two beings unique, yet division none. Two, fearing their own incomplete, forsaked the powers of the dove
Hearts apart, yet beat together..distanced, and so space was unseen between the would'be King and Queen..yet in them, it was still a wonder
As in their beginning, the Dove did fly, though briefly, when love gave and was given..flaming bright in eternity's sight, both were each other's property right
And so, as they were, were they thus appalled, that one's self was not the same, single nature's double name, neither one nor the other was seen by nuptial's flame
Reason in itself became confliction, after seeing division grow together..to themselves, yet either neither, for even the simple became a convolution, whereby a trifle became the blame
So Reason cried, "How true the two seems this harmonious one! Love has no reason and reasons none, the proposition...can division?..live as one"
Whereupon, Reason made this funeral song, for the Phoenix and the Turtledove, for joint rulers, co'dominant stars of love..let this chorus serve this tragic scene
"Beauty, truth..par excellence, grace in all simplicity...magnificence, herein enclosed, in ashes lay. Death is now the Phoenix nest, and the Turtledove's loyal breast, for in eternity does both rest. Leaving no posterity...twas not their infirmary..it was married chastity..it was self'chastity which had actually taken the vows. Truth may seem, but cannot be. Beauty flaunts, but tis not she. Truth and Beauty buried be. So, to this urn let those repair that are either true or fair, these fledglings dead, sighing a prayer..their down feathers were completely shed. Into the fire, were they cast. From themselves did they fast, and up from the ash did true love rise. King and Queen, now forever wise"