Page:The Soul of a Century.djvu/81

 When will it leave you? It seems like a reproach. What ought I do to make you happier? My theaters, my combats and my games Fail to amuse you and you coolly look On the world’s wonders. Why are you so sad? You are the ruler of a renowned land, And youthful too and like Appolo, beautiful, O, tell me then What would you have me do? I, master of the world Promise on oath to gratify your wants.”

Thus spoke Augustus. And the King replied; “Do I know that? Deep in my heart I feel Such all-embracing, unlimited longing For aught unknown, that with grief I am dying. From early childhood I was melancholy And with the years, my longing only grew Until I nearly died. One day my mother Spoke to me and said. “Dear child, Rome is the center Of all the world and Augustus its ruler, Is the light of Rome. Go, hasten to his city. Perhaps you’ll quench your soul’s thirst at his fountain Some great ambition may inflame you there And lend you wings. Go forth! Return in health!” Thus she advised. I listened and am here. You tried and did all any man could do. Your friendship and its gifts I hold most dear, And clearly see the greatness of your reign. Rome is a wonder But, my master, still I am not well The protests of my soul Outclamor all I shall perish with my grief.

Augustus hear me? Permit me to return To my mother and my distant native land.”

A long-drawn sigh broke off these bitter words And vainly pleaded the mighty emperor, That Abgar stay in Rome. At length, the Roman yielded, Bade Abgar farewell. Two heralds sped ahead With this plaintive message to the mother; “I am returning with a saddened soul Just as I left the Armenian hills. Prepare a chamber for me where the sun Creeps in at evening for a fleeting look As if it tried to say: “Come after me.”