He left to watch his father die
and accusations flew
like poison barbs; brawn from on high
knaves dishonor and defame
play dangerous devious games.
Hand on the dirk we pledged our aid
cared nought for such deceit
so run hit hide the highland way
loyal, brave with white cockade
constant, watchful... we'll read him yet!
We'll read him yet so turn the leaf;
Why quill so much maligned?
Four, six, seven then Marguerite's
fragile petals on canvas speak
out: of a sovereign marriage bed.
The searching, soulless, furious, cry
' 'tis a tissue of lies! '
Destruction bent and blind by pride.
Thus guard, keep her and defend
steadfast, unyielding to the end.
The reason? An aforesaid name
a future commitment and a claim.
For Prince Michael of Albany
August 2006
Gillian.E. Shaw
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/j-exile-a-jacobite-poem/
