Last night he came to me,
His dark eyes grave and sweet —
( Eyes that I could not meet! )
To crave my pardon — mine!
With that kingly courtesy
Which makes his least deed fine.
What fiend took hold on me?
I would nor speak nor heed,
Tho’ he bent his pride to plead —
( He, all unused to sue! )
Though he sought full tenderly
For a pardon not his due.
Fool! to have played with fire —
Had I not full often heard
How when his wrath was stirred
It burst all bounds and leapt
Higher and ever higher
Like flames by the storm-wind swept?
Yet — tho’ his face was white
With a passion that shook his soul —
Not once did he waive control,
Tho’ his heart to its depths was stirred —
He leashed his wrath that night
Nor uttered one bitter word.
Pride held me stubbornly dumb,
Stilling what words I would say,
While I flung my heart's treasure away,
While I tampered with fire — to my cost;
Till I knew the ultimate end had come —
I had matched pride with love — and lost!