Within an ancient city of the east,
A crowded place, girt with a massive wall,
And loud with traffic and the sound of toil,
A woman reigned: so fair she was, so wise,
That all the nations echoed with her praise,
And kings whose wide lands held both night and day
Bent low as suitors by her crimson throne.

Years came and went, and still she reigned alone,
For she was hard and cruel in her love,
Asking for more than any cared to give;
But all the while her people grew in wealth,
And power and wisdom, for her subtle care
Built in their hearts the bulwark of her strength,
And what she said, to them was highest law.

At last there came a time, when from the crowd
A slave, whose birthplace was some northern land,
Stood forth and said: —
" Fair Queen, your love I ask,
For lo, I love you with a passion, strong
As death and pain. "
" As death and pain? " she cried,
" Beware! your words but set the doom that comes
To hide you from the sun, its life and light.
Seize him! "
The guards who ready stood, made haste
To do her wish, but with a scornful laugh
He shook them off.
" You see, oh Queen! " he said,
" How easy were escape, but do your will,
Your word is law to me in life and death: "
And then he passed from sight, and no one knew
Where he was held, or what had been his fate.

There came a messenger one summer day,
Making his low obeisance, and he said,
" Oh, Queen! my master, ruler of the lands
Wave-girt and fair, that lie toward the east,
Comes in his ships to crave a boon of you.
His are the realms of fragrance and of gems,
Swart Java and Sumatra, Borneo,
And all the lesser groups where pearls lie hid,
And spice and fruit perpetual harvest make,
And there is not an hour devoid of bloom.
His arms are mighty, and his fleet have sailed
Down to that lowest level of the sea
Where winds are never still, and biting cold
Holds an unceasing reign; but what his suit,
Fair Queen, I leave for him alone to tell,
And simply ask an audience for my King. "

The boon was granted, and with noise of drums,
With blare of trumpets, and that pompous state
Which girds an Orient ruler like a wall,
His sovereign came, and after many days
Made loud with pageants and the din of crowds,
Besought her grace.
His great ships thronged her port,
His retinue an army was, all brave
With gold-wrought trappings, and with flags, which bore
A blazon of the battles he had won;
Yet still the same her question —
" Would his love
Hold her as ample guerdon for the lands
That owned him king? Would he give up for her
The power and glory of his tropic realm? "
And when he answered no, she bade them bring
The stalwart slave whose love had braved her wrath.

Up from a dungeon, dark as are the nights
Wherein there is no wind to rend the cloud
That lies low down along a wasted land,
A land whose trees grow from a waveless flood,
They brought the man: and rising from her throne
She stood before him, fair as morn, and sweet
With all the perfect bloom of womanhood,
A golden serpent on her slender wrist
Held in its mouth a ruby red as blood,
A loose white robe fell downward to her feet,
Clasped at the waist by one resplendent gem,
And through it shone the glory of a form
Faultless as are the statues of old time,
And strong with all the beauteous strength of youth,
And save these gems, no regal things she wore.

She told the guards to leave the slave alone,
Then bade him, as he valued life, recant
The words of love that he had dared to speak,
And folding close his arms, his noble form
Drawn to its utmost height, he hotly cried —
" Recant my love, and see your face, and feel
The subtle fragrance of your breathing thrill
The coldest fibre of my tortured form?
See your clear eyes, your mouth, that lures my soul
To dare a million deaths, if these could bring
The kiss I crave?
Recant?
Oh, Queen! I swear
There is no pain that man has yet made his,
Can make me say the words. "
Erect and firm,
Like some grand statue in a gaping crowd,
He stood and faced her.
On his lips, the blood
His teeth had drawn when stifling back a groan,
Lay dried and blackened by the heat of pain;
And on his brow the veins stood in great knots,
And his wrenched body showed the rack's fierce clutch,
In mottled stains that flushed and quivered still.

There came a mist before her eyes, and then
Turning unto her stately guest she said —
" What is your love, oh, king! to love like this?
You will not give the paltry crown you wear,
The empty symbol of a hollow state
Which fate may rend from you within an hour,
For all the hoarded sweetness I have kept,
Waiting for him who at the last should come,
And hold my love of earthly things supreme.
This slave, whose mean estate you so despise,
Has dared to love me, though grim death stood by,
Laughed in his face, and clutched him by the hair;
And were fierce danger with its hungry sword
To rise against me, there would come between
The rampart of his body, and his grave. "

Swift to his side she went and took his hand,
And led him to her throne, a slave no more,
For while her warm touch thrilled his blood like wine,
And made his manhood more than royal seem
She cried unto her people —
" See, your King! "