XIV.

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

Are dust and ashes, knowing that God's frown

Abides upon me. Would that I could die!

There is no kindlier spirit than content.

And there is nothing better in the world

Than to do good, and trust in God for all.