Page:The Soul of a Century.djvu/80

  With longing eyes, that strangely shining star; But all in vain When father led me far Along a silvery river’s winding bank Where in the midst of woods he built a home That I forget the castle we had left behind, On orders of our old ancestral Gods, ’Twas there again I sow my shining star When in the moment of my mother’s death I fell to depths of utter sheer despair, And when I called upon the Gods of Death To bring me solace and to comfort me, The Star’s green lustre seemed a sign to me, A note of greeting that my mother sent, And my weary, troubled heart found peace again.

Pale in his beauty like a broken blossom King Abgar, ruler of Armenia, Reclined upon his bed in distant Rome, Far from his kin. It was a night of dreams, Rome, bathed in the sunset’s liquid gold, Stretched at his feet, a vision of wondrous splendor A dream but rarely dreamed by mortal man Since Time began to measure off its flight. The pride of Rome, its buildings towered to the skies And further, to the foot of the bluish hills, A sea of temples and of palaces Of porphyritic columns, statuettes Merged softly with the dreaming sombre groves And with the mystic aromatic gardens.

But Abgar turned away his cheeks and sighed. Looked away from that imposing, splendid view; And his weary head/ in an exhausted doze Fell to the pillows. The enchanting air And all the splendor of the Ceasars of old Rome Did not affect or move his worried soul. Caesar Augustus, who had been his host For full three years and who loved the ailing youth, And highly praised his sentiments and thought, Approached his couch upon the balcony And said to him; “O Abgar, King of Kings, Tell me when will that sad smile disappear.