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 pass, 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. The rain beat on it, and the active wind
Crowned it with desert dust. Always the sun Made salutation to it, flushing it Until it seemed more ghastly than before. But after this mad crime the older brother grew
Jealous of him, the younger. One dark morn They found the last-born lifeless in the street, Stabbed by a long, sharp poniard in the back. Misrule followed misrule, and justice fled.
Laws were abolished, and pleasure's lewdest voice Hawked in the market-place, and through the streets. Her story done, Veera entreated me To set my face for Mesched with the dawn.
“Not yet,” I said, “not yet.” And then I made Strange passes with my hands, and braced my will, To sway her will; then with a questioning glance She passed out to a calm Mesmeric sleep.
So, well I knew that I had found the soul My purpose needed, and I bade her wake.
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