Grew colder, and my perfect form was changed.
A weak old man with wrinkled face, I fled,
To wander in the wastes. Once I looked back
Upon the garden; over it the sky
Was soft and clear; and midway in the air
I saw Veera between two angels, borne
To heaven. So I turned again and fled.
XIV.
"LONG LIVE THE KING."
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
