Or Ever The Knightly Years Were Gone

Or ever the knightly years were gone With the old world to the grave, I was a king in Babylon And you were a Christian slave.

I saw, I took, I cast you by, I bent and broke your pride. You loved me well, or I heard them lie, But your longing was denied. Vaguely I knew that by and by You cursed your gods and died.

And a myriad suns have set and shone Since then upon the grave Decreed by the king in Babylon To her that had been his slave.

The pride I trampled is now my scathe, For it tramples me again. The old resentment lasts like death, For you love, yet you refrain. I break my heart on your hard unfaith, Yet I break my heart in vain.

Yet not for an hour do I wish undone That deed beyond the grave, When I was a king in Babylon And you were a virgin slave.

William Ernest Henley.