- Influence
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"The Death of the White Dove" is an anonymously authored folk song popularized in 1735, finding mass appeal in Bully Harbor during the unrest against the policies of Mayor Anithias Freedom. The song has been interpreted as a requiem for Princess Vaelora Ryalor of Fyador, whose death at the hands of an assassin has been commonly attributed to anti-Ryalor propaganda spread by the former minister. The song below has also been variously credited or blamed for leading to the riots in Mayoral Park that resulted in the hanging of Mayor Freedom on Milarkus 21, 1735.
Mourn the white dove who ne'er hurt a soul
Who e'er lent her wings to other birds' goals
While the golden hawk feasts, we hope for and pray
That one day he will just fly away.
From 'cross the far sea, the snowy dove flew
To sing us of peace, and all her voice drew
To the great serenade, singing of hope and love
Taking wing in our hearts like a dove.
So mirthful her song, the laughter it brought
Camaraderie found wherever we sought
But ne'er smiled once the beak of the hawk
Who ne'er sang but a furious squawk.
Mourn the white dove who ne'er hurt a soul
Who e'er lent her wings to other birds' goals
While the golden hawk feasts, we mourn for the dove
Whose fall was only but for love.
The dove built her nest in a wide, mighty tree,
And all birds in she welcomed, she sheltered for free,
But the jealous gold hawk could never abide
Any free from the chains of his pride.
Through the forest he flew, his menacing cry
That by his command, the white dove should die
If she be not slain, his slander was heard,
Then the forest would burn at his word.
Mourn the white dove who ne'er hurt a soul
Who e'er lent her wings to other birds' goals
While the golden hawk feasts, we all wonder why
The innocent are the ones who must die.
The dove gathered tight the ones that she loved,
"Save my chicks," she cried, "and I'll give my blood,
I'll cut off my wings, I'll give up my song,
Just give them a life safe and long."
The wizened owl brokered his learned ascent,
That all the dove had would from her be rent,
But as she lay bleeding, helpless and reft,
The hawk dove down upon her nest.
He slashed with his talons, he bloodied his beak,
Of carnage he wrought we can hardly dare speak,
'Til dead lay the dove, a spike through her heart,
The family she loved tore apart.
So mourn the white dove who ne'er hurt a soul
Who e'er lent her wings to other birds' goals
While the golden hawk feasts, we think of the time
When at last we will all draw the line.
The golden hawk still sits high on his throne,
The high tree he claimed and dares to call home,
A tree that he stole from the just and the meek,
Until at last it's justice we seek.
I think of the dove, of the innocent slain
And wonder how many more bodies he'll lay
In the ground before at last the hawk is brought low
Will it be you or me deals the blow?
Mourn the white dove who ne'er hurt a soul
Who e'er lent her wings to other birds' goals
While the golden hawk feasts, we ready and hope
To find freedom at the end of a rope.
Mourn the white dove who ne'er hurt a soul
Who e'er lent her wings to other birds' goals
While the golden hawk feasts, we hope for and pray
That one day he will just fly away.
From 'cross the far sea, the snowy dove flew
To sing us of peace, and all her voice drew
To the great serenade, singing of hope and love
Taking wing in our hearts like a dove.
So mirthful her song, the laughter it brought
Camaraderie found wherever we sought
But ne'er smiled once the beak of the hawk
Who ne'er sang but a furious squawk.
Mourn the white dove who ne'er hurt a soul
Who e'er lent her wings to other birds' goals
While the golden hawk feasts, we mourn for the dove
Whose fall was only but for love.
The dove built her nest in a wide, mighty tree,
And all birds in she welcomed, she sheltered for free,
But the jealous gold hawk could never abide
Any free from the chains of his pride.
Through the forest he flew, his menacing cry
That by his command, the white dove should die
If she be not slain, his slander was heard,
Then the forest would burn at his word.
Mourn the white dove who ne'er hurt a soul
Who e'er lent her wings to other birds' goals
While the golden hawk feasts, we all wonder why
The innocent are the ones who must die.
The dove gathered tight the ones that she loved,
"Save my chicks," she cried, "and I'll give my blood,
I'll cut off my wings, I'll give up my song,
Just give them a life safe and long."
The wizened owl brokered his learned ascent,
That all the dove had would from her be rent,
But as she lay bleeding, helpless and reft,
The hawk dove down upon her nest.
He slashed with his talons, he bloodied his beak,
Of carnage he wrought we can hardly dare speak,
'Til dead lay the dove, a spike through her heart,
The family she loved tore apart.
So mourn the white dove who ne'er hurt a soul
Who e'er lent her wings to other birds' goals
While the golden hawk feasts, we think of the time
When at last we will all draw the line.
The golden hawk still sits high on his throne,
The high tree he claimed and dares to call home,
A tree that he stole from the just and the meek,
Until at last it's justice we seek.
I think of the dove, of the innocent slain
And wonder how many more bodies he'll lay
In the ground before at last the hawk is brought low
Will it be you or me deals the blow?
Mourn the white dove who ne'er hurt a soul
Who e'er lent her wings to other birds' goals
While the golden hawk feasts, we ready and hope
To find freedom at the end of a rope.
