Trial – VI

“Scant not a sight shall I upon you throw

But with a penetrating gaze shall I stare,

In this mockery justice, court you:

March me forth to my fall, the stair

That paltry men palpitate ere the climb,

Fall ere the finger descends, die within

Ere the first stroke of the last Sun;

O Ye’ Honour, make me the protagonist

So I shall face them and perish

Play my last scene upon the stage

Where honest fools lie, servants of men die

Lawyers in silence stand and thy word prevail.

 

Thou falter ere you fight thy dread

Veiled master of fate must be thou,

Upon thy breath, tears and life rest.

 

Do I see you turn pale upon thy seat?

Do I see you shiver down thy mantle?

Do I see thy trepidation leak to thy shoes

Past the honourable sole? Bring forth thee

To marshlands misty; thou struggle to

Breathe, walk and hence thou falter,

Hinder what should be uttered now,

Dispose of the sly cur who in thy house

Dare mock thee and thy command,

Challenge thee to a duel of justice,

Of wits; come shall ye?”

 

– Spake I.