126
AHAB
What mighty weakness stays the king
If he arise, and cast desire
Far from its seat and seed and spring
To Hinnom the detested fire?
Ay! both were wise. Madness alone
Sits throned on the king’s vacant throne.
Dogs! Who dares break on me? ‘‘ Dread
lord !
Mightiest of monarchs !”—‘‘ Cease, thou
crow !
Thine errand ! ere the eunuch’s sword
Snatch thy bald head off at a blow.”
“* Mercy, World’s Light !” Swings clear and
clean
The call ‘‘ Room for the Queen! The Queen !”
Strong as a man, the Queen strides in.
Even she shrank frighted !—my aspect
More dreadful than all shapes of sin
Her dreams might shape or recollect,
Hideous with fasting, madness, grief,
Beyond all speaking or belief.
But the first glance at those bold eyes!
Ah! let me fling me at her feet !
Take me, O love! Thy terror flies.
Kiss me again, again, O sweet !
O honeyed queen, old paramour,
So keen our joy be and so sure!
‘‘The king would be alone !”’ Fast fly
The trembling lackeys at her voice.
Lapped in her billowy breasts I he,
And love, and languish, and rejoice,
And—ah—forget ! The ecstatic hour
Bursts like a poppy into flower.
Back ! thou black spectre! In her arms
Devouring and devoured of love,
Feeding my face in myriad charms,
As on a mountain feeds a dove,
Starred with fresh flowers, dew-bright, and
pearled
With all the light of all the world:
‘Back ! loved and loathed !
Back! With the kisses ravening fast
Upon my panting mouth, the eyes
Darting hot showers of light, the vast
And vicious writhings, the caught sighs
Drunk with delight, on love’s own throne,
The moment where all time lies prone :
Back! At the very central shrine,
Pinnacled moment of excess
Of immolation’s blood divine :
Back ! from the fleshly loveliness:
O face concealed!
Back! One hath whispered ‘‘ Naboth’s
field,”
Iam slain. Her body passion-pearled
Dreams her luxurious lips have drawn
My spirit, as the dust wind-whirled
Sucks up the radiance of the dawn
In rainbow beauty 1—yet remains
Mere dust upon the barren plains.
Reluctance to reveal my grief
Is of my sickness a strange feature.
Yea, verily ! beyond belief
Is the machinery of man’s nature !
If thus spake Solomon in kind
Of body, I of soul and mind !
The lazy accents stir at last
The scented air: ‘‘ Oh, wherefore, lord,
Is thy soul sad? This weary fast
Strikes to my heart a lonely sword
In brief words stammered forth I spoke
My secret ; and the long spell broke.
1”?
And now the gilded sin of her
Leapt and was lambent in a smile:
‘*Give me but leave to minister
This kingdom for a little while!
The vineyard shall he thine. O king,
This trouble is a little thing !”
' «* Dust-devils"’ show opalescence in certain
aspects of light.