The Ice King's Daughter

or: Mesolanthe's Doom


The Ice King's daughter, very fair,
Had emerald eyes and fiery hair,
That lit the cold and darkness of her fathers icy halls.
She sang as sweet as meadowlark,
She shone while dancing in the dark,
The spark of beauty rimmed about with drear and stony walls.

But no great hero knew her name,
And none she met could ever claim
The soul of beauty, mothlike, fluttering in her breast,
Until Darrond of Cathart tread
Upon the doorstep of the stead
And begged her leave to enter and within it's shelter rest.

He long had wandered snowy lands
Obedient to the Gods' commands
That sent him forth undaunted seeking mighty things of power.
And nothing tempted him to stay
Or halt his quest in any way
Until enraptured eyes beheld the flaming ice bound flower.

Mesolanthe (Mess-OH-lawn-THAY),
Mesolanthe! Don't put your trust in man!
For he will lead you to your doom, as quickly as he can!

And her eyes lit at last to find
A one who left all else behind
A man to thaw the ice that long had lingered in her heart.
And to her father's great dismay,
She left his home and went away.
Following the Man who vowed that they would never part.

So they both went on his quest
And wandered far without much rest,
Until at last her strength gave out, and further could not go.
He carried her to Tildunherd,
Promised to wait till she was cured,
And pay the cost of healing her in labor hard and slow.

But he heard of buried power
Within the nearby lands so dour
And longed to go and finish his great quest without delay.
Though days of work he yet did owe,
Tildunherd said he could go
If the Princess as his ransom locked in chains would stay.

Mesolanthe, Mesolanthe! Don't put your trust in man!
For he will leave you to your doom, as quickly as he can

The Ice King's Daughter's trusting heart,
Though saddened that they then would part,
Yet still with faith undaunted, and with loving fire burned.
She, as yet not fully cured,
Gave herself, without a word.
So chains they put upon her limbs until her man returned.

And speedily young Darrond went
To find the thing the Gods had lent
His weary heart was filled with hope that soon his quest'ld be o'er.
Into dour lands he sped,
With blackened rocks, and sky of red,
Filled with untold dangers, and still waters grey and sour.

The Ice King's Daughter's hair of red,
Flames now in dreary halls of lead,
Her ivory limbs with cold and heavy iron chains are bound.
Darrond did not his quest fulfill,
One faithful heart awaits him still,
One heart that flames forever though cold metal wraps it round.

Mesolanthe, Mesolanthe! Don't put your trust in man!
For he will leave you to your doom, As only humans can!

Copyright © 1991 Michelle Bottorff