. The culprit fay . The throne was reared upon the grass,Of spice-wood and of sassafras;On pillars of mottled tortoise-shellHung the burnished canopy—And over it gorgeous curtains fell Of the tulips crimson monarch sat on his judgment-seat,On his brow the crown imperialshone*The prisoner Fay was at his feet,And his peers were ranged aroundthe throne*He waved his sceptre in the air, He looked around and calmly spoke;His brow was grave and his eyesevere,But his voice in a softened accentbroke:.
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidculpritfay01, bookyear1903