VEERA.

While yet upon his couch our father lay, Sick unto death, my brothers, with one mind, Plotted abrupt destruction to my life. I did not tell the king, because I feared To lessen by one heat the throbbing of his heart. Beside his couch I knelt, and bowed my head— I, his first-born, whom all the people loved. His hot, weak hand he laid upon my hair, And blessed me with his blessing, then said on: "Thou hast beheld in Spring the dark green blade That stabs up through the unresisting earth; At last the Summer crowns it with a flower. So thou, when I am passed away, and gone to dust, Shalt wear a crown, but grander than the shrubs— The symbol of a kingdom, on thy brow. But take thee now this lesson to thy heart, And from the grass learn wisdom; wear thy crown As meekly, and as void of all display, As doth the shrub half hidden under leaves." So he bent down with pain, and kissed my cheek, As though, having issued a great law, he Had set his seal upon it—the king's seal. I cared not for the crown, save as a means To give my soul a higher and a nobler life. This my old tutor taught me—a strange man he, With careless garb, and heavy hairy brows Bridged over eyes that shone like furnace fire. My will was lost in his. I grew like him. I only cared to study and to dream. And he it was who, standing in the night Between two pillars on the palace porch, Saw my two brothers pass, and overheard The hateful whisper of their black design.

The night before the murder was to be, I drew my long, keen dagger from its sheath, And stole on down the marble stair-way, past The throne-room, to the curtained arch wherein My brothers lay asleep. No dream beset The guilty Dead-Sea of their rest. They lay Engulfed in pillows, like two ships mid waves. I saw their faces, and the one was fair. Long dark brown hair fell from his noble brow, And on the silken billow of the couch lay curled Like spray. The other face was cold and dark I felt no pity in my angry breast For this, the older brother of the twain. Yet he it was who always praised me most. Praise is a dust of diamond that, if thrown Well in the eyes of even noble men, Will blind them to a host of flagrant faults. The moon was full, and 'twixt two silvered clouds Looked forth, like any princess from between The tasseled curtains of her downy bed. The vagrant wind came through the opened blind, And whispered of the desert; with its hand Fanning the flame that in the silver urn Mimicked a star. Beneath the rays I wrote: I should have slain you both for your intent Of murder; but I spare, you, and I go. So, take the kingdom, and ride long and well. Between them there I laid the paper down, Then thrust my dagger, to the golden hilt, Through it, deep in the couch. So passing on, I came to that high room wherein my sire, The king, lay sick, and drifting near to death. My tutor at his feet, and on the floor, Embraced by needed sleep, lay like a dog. I came to see the king's face once again, Ere, like a maid who in her lover trusts, I gave myself up, body and soul, To the great desert and the world beyond. How sweetly slept the king! His long white beard, And venerable face, were undisturbed By even the breezy motion of his breath. Surely, I thought, the fever must have passed. I bent down tenderly to kiss the cheek. How cold! God help me, can the king be dead? My heart gave one wild bound, driving a wave Of grief, vast as a mountain, up the sands Of my bleak desolation. The wave broke Into a blinding mist of tears at last. I longed to moan out my despair, but paused, Checking my sobs to kiss the face once more; Then moved from the strange room, parting with care The massive silken curtains, fearful then Their rustle might attract some wakeful ear. I found the jewels of the crown, and these With all my own I in a bag secured, And hung about my neck, beneath my robe. Noiseless as a ghost I passed the hall, And down the stair-way wrought of sandal-wood Made lightest footsteps. As I stole Along the alcoves where the maidens slept, A lady stood before me. She outstretched Her white and naked arms, and round my neck Entwined them. She was the captive, Veera, Once held for ransom from some Bedouin tribe; But when the coin was brought she would not go; At this the king was pleased, for thus she made Perpetual peace between him and her kin. No maid in Mesched up and down, was found To rival her for beauty. All her words Were apt and good, and all her ways were sweet. I, in her happy prison, ivory-barred By her white arms, was restless for release. She would not set me free until I told The purport of my vigil, and revealed The place whereat my journey would be done. I did not wait to pay her back her kiss. I hurried to the stables, where I found My coal-black steed. He neighed and pawed the floor. I bound the saddle firmly, grasped the reins, And in a moment passed the city's gate, And shot out on the desert, where the wind Made race with us, but lagged behind at last.

Vienna gained, I gave myself to books. Here I had promised Veera I should be. New paths were opened to me, and my days Were lost in study. All my tutor knew Seemed cramped and meagre in these wider ways Of thought and science. Better far, I said, To know, than be a king. There is no crown That so becomes the brow as knowledge does. To solve two problems, now engrossed my life. My Bedouin tutor had spent all his days Upon them, but without success. On me He grafted all the purpose of his soul, Determined, though he failed, that I might yet Toil on when he was compassed round by death. These sister problems were, How make pure gold? And, How endure forever on the earth?

Among the books that I had bought myself, I found the Bible. This to peruse I soon essayed; but ere I had read far, Behold! I found the door behind which lay The answers to my problems. Locked and barred The door was, yet I knew it was the door. For here I read of Eden, and that in the midst The Tree of Life stood, while through the land A river ran which parted in four heads; And one was Gihon, the Ethiop stream; And one was Pison, the great crystal tide Which floods Havilah, where fine gold is found, And rare bdellium and the onyx stone. So, as my tutor said, my problems were A dual secret, and the one contained The other. All the long night through I pored Above the words, and kissed the unconscious page With reverent lips. My heart was like a sponge Soaked in the water of the mystic words.

As one who in the night, passing a street Deserted, finds a lost key rusted and old, Yet knows that it will fit some great iron door Behind which countless treasures are concealed, So I, when first I came to Mesmer's works, Knew I had found the key to move the door Of my twin problems. Then, day after day, I made them all my study. Much I mourned The sad disheartened life that Mesmer led. He never knew that one good thing, success; But yet his strong, persistent genius, to the end Endured. Yet such the rule in every age. The one true man appears, and gives his thought, At which the whole world rail or basely sneer. The next man comes and makes a thankless use Of what the other knew, and wins the praise The first man lost by being ripe too soon.

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.

I sat and pondered in my room that night Until the towers and steeples, near and far, Like sentries of the sky, issued the hour Of midnight. Then I wrought magnetic force With waving hands; and set my swerveless will That Veera should approach me, and that none Should harm or see her as she passed the streets. At last I heard her footstep on the stair— The patter of her feet as soft as rain, And then she turned the hinge and entered in. A long white wrapper made of satin, bound With lace of gold, and fastened at the throat With buttons of cut diamond, clad her form. A band of opals was around her neck— A hundred little worlds with central fires. Her feet were naked, and her hair was down. Her large eyes, wide and staring, took no heed Of anything before them; thus she slept. I bade her sit beside me, and I placed The Bible on her knee, and laid her hand Upon the verse that names the tree of life. "Tell me," I said, "where may this tree be found." "The way is long," she answered me at last, "And I am worn and weary. I have tracked The shore of one long river, many a mile. The sun scorches like fire. I am athirst. I cannot find the tree; my search is done." "Look down the past, and find if any knew Where grows this tree, or how it might be found." Again her lips made answer: "One I see, Long dead, who bends above a written scroll, And therein makes strange characters, which hold Some hidden sense pertaining to this tree. In Milan, in the Ambrosian library there, I see this scroll to-night; 'tis worn with age." "Now seek thy home again," I said, "sweet soul. Thou art as meek and pure as him whose hand First wrote God's words." So she arose, and passed Along the dark, deserted street, and I Followed her closely, till I saw her cross The threshold of her cottage; then I turned, And found my home, and calmly slept till dawn.

In Milan, in the Ambrosian library there, Among Pinellian writings seared with age, I found a prophet's palimpsest—a scroll That Angelo Maio had brought to light. And on the margin of this scroll, I found Mysterious signs which baffled me at first. After a full week's search I chanced to find The mongrel dialect of which they were. I thus translated: Gihon is the Nile. A perfect soul may find long life and gold. Surely, I thought, Veera the maid is pure. Her life's blue sky has not one cloud of sin. If her feet press the soil where Eve first trod, I can but follow and attain. So I Back to Vienna came and found Veera. To her I made my double purpose plain, And prayed her to go with me in my search. She smiled assent. To be near me, she said, Had brought her to Vienna; this indeed Detained her from her kinsmen. Her heart's book Lay open to me, and I read her love. So we were wed, and both lives ran to one.

Now for the Nile we journeyed, gaining first The town of Gondokoro, where the stream Of Bahr el Abiad, or White Nile, flows. Thence we passed on, and with the savage kings Of Karagwe, Uganda and Ungoro, stopped, To rest our weary feet, or in their huts Escape the sun's fierce glare. At last we found The sources of the Nile; two lakes that now Are called Nyanza and Nzige. If here I had but paused, and had retraced my steps, The whole world would have known and praised my name, For I was first to find the secret out. But then I cared not for it, journeying on. After a week, we came upon a land All void, and barren of a single leaf. Veera was pale and worn, although she bore Fatigue with generous patience for my sake. Our feet were swollen, and with the hot sand scorched, Our garments were in tatters, and we seemed Like beggars, in a land where there were none to give. At night we slept beside a wide, cool stream, Whereat we quenched our thirst, and bathed our feet. My beard was grown, and all my hair hung down Neglected, on my shoulders. I was weak, And thin, and feverish, and Veera, too, I saw was sick, and languished hour by hour.

In the sand, lo! something to the sun Replied with brilliant lustre; as I brushed The dust away, I saw that it was gold!— A solid bar of gold—and yet so weak Was I, I could not move it from its place. I would have given then the bar of gold To buy a crust, but could not. So we passed, And came where five great rivers went their ways. Which should we follow? One I knew Led to the tree of life, but all the rest Went back to death. Here a dead bird we found, And tearing off its gaudy plumage, ate. Upon occasional trees grew strange sparse fruits, And these sustained us as we wandered on. Along the banks for many a mile we went By each of these five rivers, then returned. So all my hope was dead, and long I prayed That I might live to see my land again.

The night came on, and unto sleep we gave Our spirits. When the golden day was born Veera awoke, and told me all her dream; "Lo, in the night three men have talked with me— Three strange good men who said the kindest words, And said that only those who were released From sin, could find the garden of the Lord. And this release was bought upon a cross By One, a Nazarene, with priceless blood. If He would bear our sins, then we might reach The garden; but we must not touch or eat The tree of life that flourished in the midst." Then I abased my soul, and prayed again, And cast off all the burden of my sins, Tearing my strange ambition from my heart. And Veera, too, embraced the Christian Faith. So we arose, and went upon our way, And journeying eastward, Eden found at last!

The trees were housed with nests, and every one Was like a city of song. The streams too Were voluble; they laughed and gurgled there Like men who, at a banquet, sit and drink And chatter. All the grass was like a robe Of velvet, and there was no need of rain. In dells roofed with green leafage, nature spread Couches meet for a Sybarite. Sweet food The servant trees extended us to eat In their long, branchy arms. Even the sun Was tempered, and the sky was always blue. Corpulent grapes along the crystal rocks, Made consorts of the long-robed lady leaves. The butterfly and bee, from morn till eve, Consulted with the roses, lip to lip, Which grew in rank profusion. They at times Dared to invade the empire of the grass, And overthrew its green-robed, spear-armed hosts. The lilies too were like an army there, And every night they struck their snowy tents, To please their great commander, the round moon— God's lily in the everlasting sky.

As to the heliotrope comes fluttering down The peacock-butterfly, who sips and flies, So each glad day gold-winged came to the land And sipped its sip of time and fled away. Now in an evil hour I hungered, and I saw The tree of life that grew forbidden fruit. What harm, I thought, is there to always live? To live is happiness; but to die is pain. The rental claimed by death falls due too soon. So I reached forth, and took the fruit, and ate. Then all the sky grew dark, and from the land Malignant terrors drove me shrieking forth; And as I fled, my youth abandoned me; My hair turned gray, my shoulders stooped, my blood 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.

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 Are dust and ashes, knowing that God's frown Abides upon me. Would that I could die! There is no kindlier spirit than content. And there is nothing better in the world Than to do good, and trust in God for all.