Illegitimate son, cast away, to dwell in the castle of the glade; Led to manhood by Farseeing Eyes, in magic and knowledge, true and wise. By some mishap, pulled steel from stone, and so this man received the throne. He created a table, where no man was greater, an achievement that would be recalled far later. He befriended a brave and loving young heart, but here was folly in the start! The King then betrothed a maiden, certainly fair to the eye but she had yet to find out where her loyalty lie; Soon the Wise Eyes went blind, yet they had foreseen the rising of a betraying queen. The Brave Heart grew to the greatest degree, but found a new love; a scandal set free. Ours never knew what occurred behind the shrouds; his spouse and his comrade, so his heart remained proud. Battles raged on, and the King remained unaware, while the two souls met in secret, a truly wretched pair. But through a hatred, a son from the past destroyed his father with a truth that held fast. "She is his lover! He has forsaken you, my King!" And both fled from out under the blame, shame glowing keen. When they at last stood on trial, the king's heart nearly broke, for he could sense the falseness when each of them spoke. But nevertheless, unable/to let his dear friends die, "not guilty" was the solemn verdict that the King cried. To France the Brave heart was banished, his mind rather troubled, and King, now old, went on fighting, for the wars had doubled. So alone in the castle, the Queen fell victim to the King's miscreant son, lunacy his obvious symptom. He married the Queen proclaiming/that the Old had died, But she locked herself in London tower, his 'requests' she denied. When the mad son besieged the tower, blasting with cannons and with stones, The Old King refused his age and let anger strengthen his bones. He made his way to the tower, but stopped almost halfway, for again he had grown weary and had to rest that day. The Brave Heart heard and flew to London to try his best and aid, But the King went no further, or at least, so it is said. Pained with the agony of his kingdom torn apart, the old man finally died, his sad story still on his heart. The kingdom, the friend, the wife, the table, all had been his dreams; yet all had been failures and bitterly ripped at the seams. However, it is also said, so never fear, dear friend, that if that king is needed, he will surely come again. For on his gravestone and in the songs people will forever sing: Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, the Once and Future King! A poem based on the novel "Once and Future King", by T.H. White, which, in turn, is based on "Le Morte De Arthur" (or the Death of Arthur) By Sir Francis Malory