The Queen's Pyre and Gav's Plea

From E2.3, Gav, Talkhand, and Chess. It illustrates E2.3.474–485:

E2.3.474
His mother wept blood tears that would not dry;Her breast was drenched beneath the bitter sky.
E2.3.475
When tidings came that empire’s light was dim,And young Talkhand had died through fortune grim,
E2.3.476
That on his golden saddle he had diedAnd left Gav king, she tore her hair and cried.
E2.3.477
Into Talkhand’s own palace-hall she ran,And beat her head on every wall and span.
E2.3.478
She tore her cheeks and rent her royal gown,Then burned the hall, the treasury, and crown.
E2.3.479
She raised a mighty pyre to burn upon,By Hind’s old rite, when hope and sons are gone.
E2.3.480
She meant through sorrow to reveal her pain,And join Talkhand beyond the mortal chain.
E2.3.481
When of his mother tidings reached the king,He sped the road, his heart with sorrowing.
E2.3.482
He came and clasped her, pleading through his grief,With bloody eyes and words that sought relief:
E2.3.483
“O loving mother, listen to my plea;No wrong was ours in that field by the sea.
E2.3.484
It was not I, nor any comrade’s hand,Nor warriors of this noble army’s band,
E2.3.485
Who slew him. None dared breathe on him with scorn;He died beneath the star to which he was born.”