Page:Negro poets and their poems (IA negropoetstheirp00kerl).pdf/52

30 The story of Vashti, who dared heroically to disobey her monarch-husband, is as well told in simple ballad measure as one may find it. I give it entire:

She leaned her head upon her hand And heard the King’s decree— “My lords are feasting in my halls; Bid Vashti come to me. “I’ve shown the treasures of my house, My costly jewels rare, But with the glory of her eyes No rubies can compare. “Adorn’d and crown’d I’d have her come, With all her queenly grace, And, ’mid my lords and mighty men, Unveil her lovely face. “Each gem that sparkles in my crown, Or glitters on my throne, Grows poor and pale when she appears, My beautiful, my own!” All waiting stood the chamberlains To hear the Queen’s reply. They saw her cheek grow deathly pale, But light flash’d to her eye: “Go, tell the King,” she proudly said, “That I am Persia’s Queen, And by his crowds of merry men I never will be seen.