Page:Stories in Verse.djvu/141

Rh Grew colder, and my perfect form was changed.

A weak old man with wrinkled face, I fled,

To wander in the wastes. Once I looked back

Upon the garden; over it the sky

Was soft and clear; and midway in the air

I saw Veera between two angels, borne

To heaven. So I turned again and fled.

I came at last to Mesched. It was night.

The moon, half-shadowed, trailed its silver robe

Over the tower above the eastern gate,

And there revealed the outlines of a skull

Set on a spear. The portals were unbarred.

I passed the arch, but in the shadow kept,

While on the flinty wall I edged my knife.

Then I crept on until I gained the porch

Of the great palace. There I smote the guard,

And entering in, sought out the sleeping king.

Deep in his heart I plunged my thirsty knife.

All the next day I sat before the gate, And begged, and heard the rumors of the town;

Then, standing forth, I claimed to be their king,

And told them all my story to the end.

None pitied the dead ruler, for he knew

No pity while he lived. So I was king at last;

But all my life, and all my hope to me