Would Camelot be standing yet if Knight and Queen had never met,
Or was it written, set in stone, this love which overthrew the throne?
Fair Guinevere, you did entrance your Champion with just one glance.
Did his heart pound and his pulse race each time he looked upon your face?
His loyalty was ripped and torn, allegiance to his Monarch sworn;
For Arthur, he would give his life, but could not forsake Arthur's wife.
Brave Lancelot, did you inspire your lady-love with deep desire?
Was love revealed quite undisguised each time she looked into your eyes?
Between two lovers she was rent and, doubtless, suffered some torment
To know the love 'twixt you and she was branded as adultery.
Was Arthur doomed to lead his his life enamoured with a faithless wife,
And was it useless to berate that fickle Imp who's known as Fate?
Did Arthur sense right from the start that Lancelot had stole her heart,
Or did he just refuse to see, oblivious to treachery?
Perhaps he reasoned, in his mind, or in his heart, where love is blind,
That ever foolish was his fear; how deaf are those who will not hear.
And Merlin, you mischievous mage, who knew each player on the stage,
Did you perceive each rendezvous with whispered words and prompted cue
And if it were within your power, would you have stayed the fateful hour,
Or was it beyond your command to change the cards within your hand?
How well, Mordred, you played your role as one with a most evil soul.
Had you not set your sights so high, King Arthur's banner still might fly.
Oh woeful, misbegotten son, had you regrets for what was done?
How craftily you hid and spied until your greed was satisfied.
Each Paladin was forced to choose the side to which he'd pay his dues;
Devotion to the King and Crown, or scheme to bring his Monarch down.
And so the Table, formed with trust, became an object gathering dust;
An ideal blowing in the wind for both the pure and those who'd sinned.
No longer joined in harmony would Arthur's knights find unity.
The die was cast; the ramparts breached, and Chivalry itself impeached.
Deceitful Queen! Disloyal Knight! Ungrateful son with manner trite!
And Wily Wizard, what of you? What spells were formed to cloud the view?
Who played the Fool, who played the Pawn, at Camelot's concluding dawn?
Who played the King, and could it be that Arthur dramatized all three?
Strong only as its weakest link, the magic armor showed its chink.
The valiant steed, so chaste and white, became as blackened as the night.
The Holy Grail forever lost as Gallantry was pitched and tossed,
And Camelot, once tall and proud, became as dismal as a shroud.
It crumbled 'neath a sky so grey as if its walls were made of clay;
Its towers tumbled to the ground 'til not a fragment could be found.
Amid the ash, did Arthur stand, Excalibur gripped in his hand,
With broken heart and bitter tears to see the turning of the years?
Or did he take some comfort in the hope his Dream would rise again?
A Camelot that would restore the Brotherhood, like days of yore.
Though Lancelot and Guinevere renounced the love they held so dear,
It was too little and too late; a plague had spread whose name was Hate.
Is Arthur's Realm lost in the mist and was it real, did it exist?
Will Arthur truly come again when he is called upon to reign?
But, be it fable or a fact, its memory remains intact,
And still the world has not forgot the Glory that was Camelot.
'Tis not for us to lay the blame, or criticize or put to shame,
For who can swear by stars above they would not do the same for love?