XIV.

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.