Gianni fled, fearing my face at last.

To-day I have his letter from his home, Beneath the far-off skies of Italy, Craving forgiveness for his wrongs to me; Saying that he repents for all his past, And with Christ's help, will lead a better life.

He found his wife and children overjoyed To have him back again to their embrace.

To-morrow Grace Bernard and I shall wed.

The bell that tolled my bitter funeral knell, Will ring, glad of my wedding and my bride-- Ring merrily round and round a jubilant peal.

There comes no premonition now to show to me What the long future has in store for us; But from my door I watch the sunset skies, And see blue mountains tower o'er golden plains, Clothed with pure beauty stretching far away.

So seems the future. I await the morn.

VEERA.

I.

THE KING'S SEAL.

While yet upon his couch our father lay, Sick unto death, my brothers, with one mind, Plotted abrupt destruction to my life.

I did not tell the king, because I feared To lessen by one heat the throbbing of his heart.

Beside his couch I knelt, and bowed my head-- I, his first-born, whom all the people loved.

His hot, weak hand he laid upon my hair, And blessed me with his blessing, then said on: "Thou hast beheld in Spring the dark green blade That stabs up through the unresisting earth; At last the Summer crowns it with a flower.

So thou, when I am pa.s.sed away, and gone to dust, Shalt wear a crown, but grander than the shrubs-- The symbol of a kingdom, on thy brow.

But take thee now this lesson to thy heart, And from the gra.s.s learn wisdom; wear thy crown As meekly, and as void of all display, As doth the shrub half hidden under leaves."

So he bent down with pain, and kissed my cheek, As though, having issued a great law, he Had set his seal upon it--the king's seal.

I cared not for the crown, save as a means To give my soul a higher and a n.o.bler life.

This my old tutor taught me--a strange man he, With careless garb, and heavy hairy brows Bridged over eyes that shone like furnace fire.

My will was lost in his. I grew like him.

I only cared to study and to dream.

And he it was who, standing in the night Between two pillars on the palace porch, Saw my two brothers pa.s.s, and overheard The hateful whisper of their black design.

II.

THE NIGHT OF THE ESCAPE.

The night before the murder was to be, I drew my long, keen dagger from its sheath, And stole on down the marble stair-way, past The throne-room, to the curtained arch wherein My brothers lay asleep. No dream beset The guilty Dead-Sea of their rest. They lay Engulfed in pillows, like two ships mid waves.

I saw their faces, and the one was fair.

Long dark brown hair fell from his n.o.ble brow, And on the silken billow of the couch lay curled Like spray. The other face was cold and dark I felt no pity in my angry breast For this, the older brother of the twain.

Yet he it was who always praised me most.

Praise is a dust of diamond that, if thrown Well in the eyes of even n.o.ble men, Will blind them to a host of flagrant faults.

The moon was full, and 'twixt two silvered clouds Looked forth, like any princess from between The ta.s.seled curtains of her downy bed.

The vagrant wind came through the opened blind, And whispered of the desert; with its hand Fanning the flame that in the silver urn Mimicked a star. Beneath the rays I wrote: _I should have slain you both for your intent Of murder; but I spare, you, and I go.

So, take the kingdom, and ride long and well._ Between them there I laid the paper down, Then thrust my dagger, to the golden hilt, Through it, deep in the couch. So pa.s.sing on, I came to that high room wherein my sire, The king, lay sick, and drifting near to death.

My tutor at his feet, and on the floor, Embraced by needed sleep, lay like a dog.

I came to see the king's face once again, Ere, like a maid who in her lover trusts, I gave myself up, body and soul, To the great desert and the world beyond.

How sweetly slept the king! His long white beard, And venerable face, were undisturbed By even the breezy motion of his breath.

Surely, I thought, the fever must have pa.s.sed.

I bent down tenderly to kiss the cheek.

How cold! G.o.d help me, can the king be dead?

My heart gave one wild bound, driving a wave Of grief, vast as a mountain, up the sands Of my bleak desolation. The wave broke Into a blinding mist of tears at last.

I longed to moan out my despair, but paused, Checking my sobs to kiss the face once more; Then moved from the strange room, parting with care The ma.s.sive silken curtains, fearful then Their rustle might attract some wakeful ear.

I found the jewels of the crown, and these With all my own I in a bag secured, And hung about my neck, beneath my robe.

Noiseless as a ghost I pa.s.sed the hall, And down the stair-way wrought of sandal-wood Made lightest footsteps. As I stole Along the alcoves where the maidens slept, A lady stood before me. She outstretched Her white and naked arms, and round my neck Entwined them. She was the captive, Veera, Once held for ransom from some Bedouin tribe; But when the coin was brought she would not go; At this the king was pleased, for thus she made Perpetual peace between him and her kin.

No maid in Mesched up and down, was found To rival her for beauty. All her words Were apt and good, and all her ways were sweet.

I, in her happy prison, ivory-barred By her white arms, was restless for release.

She would not set me free until I told The purport of my vigil, and revealed The place whereat my journey would be done.

I did not wait to pay her back her kiss.

I hurried to the stables, where I found My coal-black steed. He neighed and pawed the floor.

I bound the saddle firmly, grasped the reins, And in a moment pa.s.sed the city's gate, And shot out on the desert, where the wind Made race with us, but lagged behind at last.

III.

TWO PROBLEMS.

Vienna gained, I gave myself to books.

Here I had promised Veera I should be.

New paths were opened to me, and my days Were lost in study. All my tutor knew Seemed cramped and meagre in these wider ways Of thought and science. Better far, I said, To know, than be a king. There is no crown That so becomes the brow as knowledge does.

To solve two problems, now engrossed my life.

My Bedouin tutor had spent all his days Upon them, but without success. On me He grafted all the purpose of his soul, Determined, though he failed, that I might yet Toil on when he was compa.s.sed round by death.

These sister problems were, _How make pure gold?_ And, _How endure forever on the earth?_

IV.

THE DOOR.

Among the books that I had bought myself, I found the Bible. This to peruse I soon essayed; but ere I had read far, Behold! I found the door behind which lay The answers to my problems. Locked and barred The door was, yet I knew it was the door.

For here I read of Eden, and that in the midst The Tree of Life stood, while through the land A river ran which parted in four heads; And one was Gihon, the Ethiop stream; And one was Pison, the great crystal tide Which floods Havilah, where fine gold is found, And rare bdellium and the onyx stone.

So, as my tutor said, my problems were A dual secret, and the one contained The other. All the long night through I pored Above the words, and kissed the unconscious page With reverent lips. My heart was like a sponge Soaked in the water of the mystic words.

V.

THE KEY.

As one who in the night, pa.s.sing a street Deserted, finds a lost key rusted and old, Yet knows that it will fit some great iron door Behind which countless treasures are concealed, So I, when first I came to Mesmer's works, Knew I had found the key to move the door Of my twin problems. Then, day after day, I made them all my study. Much I mourned The sad disheartened life that Mesmer led.

He never knew that one good thing, success; But yet his strong, persistent genius, to the end Endured. Yet such the rule in every age.

The one true man appears, and gives his thought, At which the whole world rail or basely sneer.

The next man comes and makes a thankless use Of what the other knew, and wins the praise The first man lost by being ripe too soon.

VI.

NEWS FROM MESCHED.

Down the long street, upon my iron-black steed, I rode and pondered. Where shall I seek to find A sweet soul pure as dawn, who to my will shall be Both malleable and ductile; who can soar Over the whole earth, or go back in the past?

While yet I mused, lo, up a garden walk, A lady chased a bird. An empty cage Stood in the vine-clad cottage-window near.

The bird was like some sweet elusive thought; The maid, a Sappho, weary with pursuit.

She only glanced my way to see me pa.s.s, Then turned and ran towards me, her large eyes With gladness scintillant. It was the maid, Veera. Her hand upon my shoulder, up the walk We went, my steed following, while her bird, Tired of his liberty, had found his cage.

Strange news had Veera. Here she lived in peace; But through the city she had sought me long.

When I was gone from Mesched, and my brothers read The paper I had written, their wrath rose Against my tutor whom they deemed the spy.

He, being found asleep beside the king Who lay dead, to his door they brought The baseless charge of murder. Through the streets They sent their criers to proclaim the deed.

So, clamorous for his life, the people came And dragged him forth, and led him to the block And slew him. On a spear they set his head, And placed it high upon the tower above The eastern gate. The birds pecked at the eyes, And of the hair made comfortable nests.