Page:Departmental Ditties and Ballads and Barrack-Room Ballads, Kipling, 1899.djvu/205

Rh And grimly said the Afghan King: "I rule the Afghan race.

"My path is mine—see thou to thine—to-night upon thy bed

"Think who there be in Kabul now that clamour for thy head."

That night when all the gates were shut to City and to Throne,

Within a little garden-house the King lay down alone.

Before the sinking of the moon, which is the Night of Night,

Yar Khan came softly to the King to make his honour white.

The children of the town had mocked beneath his horse's hoofs,

The harlots of the town had hailed him "butcher!" from their roofs.

But as he groped against the wall, two hands upon him fell,

The King behind his shoulder spoke: "Dead man, thou dost not well!