The French fleur-de-lis, sweet Lyriel, Queen:
She who holds the fierce Falcon's jesses.
Strong speaker of Law, Defender from wrong:
A beacon in times of dangers, distresses.
She gained great reknown, speaking words for the Crown,
But now in Court Royal Her words are Her Own.
With Reason's own voice, the fierce Falcon's choice,
Her fair works of justice will last longer than stone.
A most regal sight, of Fashion's own height,
She gives inspiration to the plyers of arts.
This gold lily flower, at work every hour,
How wisely she's guided this sweet Land of Hearts.
The days of Her rule, a glittering jewel,
She gives Her Own brightness to Calon-Crown's luster.
Well schooled in the coin, with Her warriors She joins.
All tradesmen rejoice as she calls forth Her muster.
This long-waited reign of a King come from Spain
Has brought us a French Queen of merit and honor.
In my songs and my lais I hope to give praise,
And by humble words to lay kudos upon Her.
The strength of this land She holds in Her hand.
She ennobles her subjects who love Her so dear.
In history vast there's none who's surpassed
Sweet Lyriel, Lily-Queen of Calontir.
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