A martial host arrayed against a foe, Do stand prepared to clash and shed their blood. Above them all, with regal mien, doth show The King his crown, where mighty honours stood. The humble pawns advance in foremost line, Their destined role: to charge and to be slain. Behind them wait the Queen, and Lords divine, The nobles of the realm, a watchful train. These pawns fall fast! A base and sorry sight! No tears they earn, their end doth clear the way For others, who shall join the fiercest fight, Whilst horsemen leap the fallen in their play. Then plans are forged, and strategies devised, To bring the enemy to mournful plight. With side-long step, and purpose undisguised, The officers advance, arrayed in might. The castles stout, at corners of the field, Their grounded nature, leaping is denied. Yet sometimes King, in his accustomed shield, Will cast a castle forth, himself to hide Behind its bulk; for, to a King's command, "Retire!" to speak were most uncourteous sound. A softer phrase, by subtle gesture planned, Is "Castle!" — thus his safety is profound. He seeks his place, ere danger shall arise, Of grand importance, slow his pace and thought. From square to square he treads, 'neath watchful skies, A simple movement, by such measures bought. But mark the Queen! she strides with giant leap, Now diagonal, now straight, her power known. Such grace and scope, her regal form doth keep, A Lady supreme, upon her lofty throne. She flies o'er board, through hostile terrain, As officer, with angled, piercing glance. Or straight as tower, to fall and rise again, Even the foe respects her fearsome dance. He makes his strike, with warning, sharp and clear, "Beware!" he cries, ere she doth meet her doom. If threat befall the King, ere fatal year, A "Check!" is first declared, to pierce the gloom. If he may block, and his position hold, He stays his ground, no hasty step he makes. For all around, their King to keep from cold And mortal harm, a loyal guard partakes. To death they march, the pawns and lesser kind, Without a word, their sacrifice is given. The Queen herself, her monarch's safety bind, Will bravely stand, her loyal vow is driven. If by the Horse a "Check" be issued forth, No block can shield; "Flee!" is the stern decree. For Horse leaps walls, and laughs at all his worth. But if the King be "Mated," all men see, Though strength remain, and troops in number great, The game is lost, the vanquished forces yield. To the dark box, all figures meet their fate, The pawns, the kings, all cast upon the field. Here is displayed the lot of all that's born, The final reckoning, for high and low. No royal wrath shall vex them in this morn, The King and Queen, with knaves, together go. All who have stood, triumphant or laid low, To that dark chest are gathered, side by side. The game is done. The moves they made below, The mortal plays his life, with shifting tide. The difference hence: he enters, of his will, Not free, but by a Power unseen, unknown. He thinks, "I guided all," yet moves against his skill, A pawn he was, or horse, to Fortune blown. An officer, a castle, grand he seemed, Till "Mate!" the Highest Voice, the Game doth end. From board he's taken, from this life he's dreamed, To hide within the box, his earthly trend. Time Stalemate...
