Ode to a Prince's Wealth

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Delemis
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Ode to a Prince's Wealth

Post by Delemis »

A Poem written mostly as clutter, to ensure that Cyrodiil - home of many famous poets - has enough of said poetry to go around. Could be attributed to one such poet, a contemporary one, or simply an anonymous artist. Either way, the author is clearly levelling some critique at the tradition of heartland mercantilism.
Merchant prince of pious Niben stock
Tell us how your handsome wealth is made
Is it in the sacred house of silk?
Is it overseas on ships of trade?
Perhaps where ruby riches are unearthed
Or where men are parted from their drakes
Golden brothels, gilded dens of mirth
Home to courtesans and sotted rakes

Gambling houses, honest and less-so
Surely line your pockets, regal sire
As do breweries, where liquor flows
Industry whose profits never tire
Or is fishing where your interests lie?
River's bounty worth it's weight in gold
Money too, in abattoirs’ supply
Is it beef whose treasure fills your hold?

In the city, wealth is toilsome made
Stench of sload oil makes the stomach turn
Hammers clang till hearing starts to fade
Magic mixtures cause the nostrils burn
Workshops toil unceasing, day and night
Kilns and dyers breathe a foulsome smell
Renters’ meager pay is your delight
Debtors ‘neath your looming shadow dwell

Is your wealth a gift from the divine?
Or is it somehow humble man's design?

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