hat Yorghi was her sire;
I said I was Demetrius, a beggar vile and low,
But 'neath my heart's one crucible love lit its fusing fire.

Her sensuous long dark lashes hung above her dreamy eyes,
Like twin clouds of stormy portent balanced over limpid deeps;
Like the wings of birds of passage seen against the hazy skies;
Like the petal o'er the pollen of the flow'ret when it sleeps.

All her vesture was embroidered with the finest lace of gold;
A diamond in her turban with its eye-like glitter shone;
The white dress more than half revealed a form of perfect mould,
And her cincture, dagger-fastened, shaped the garment to her zone.

To my eyes she gave her dark eyes, down to gaze into and dream;
And I seemed like one who leans above a bridge's slender rail,
And thinks, and gazes wistfully deep down into the stream,
While the twilight gathers round him, and the gleam-winged stars prevail.

After this I met her daily in the palace-garden ways,
And she always came to meet me, and opened wide the gate,
Often chiding, often smiling at my minute-long delays,
And bringing dainty viands in a golden cup and plate.

I, her lover, was a beggar, but she loved me all the same;
Had I been Haroun Alraschid she could not have loved me more;
While she whispered, on my lips and on my eyes she kissed my name,
And vined her arms about my neck; how could I but adore?

But all pleasure cloys or ceases; if the cup is stricken down,
All its contents are like acid, burning deep a long regret;
If it cloys, we calmly leave it, with perhaps a careless frown,
Or may be a pleasant memory that is easy to forget.

Once when in the golden kiosk, with Eudocia's hand in mine,
Came old Yorghi frowning darkly with the storm upon his face;
Would she bring disgrace upon him? Would she break his noble line?
He stamped his fierce invective, and he drove me from the place.

Ere I went I turned upon him, and I boldly claimed her hand,
And vowed that I would have her, though the city barred my way;
But he scoffed at me, a beggar, and repeated his command,
Never more to meet his daughter, for my life's sake, from that day.

III.

THE VISIT OF DEMETRIUS AND HIS TEN FRIENDS.

So two lives, like confluent rivers, were unkindly torn apart;
One to slide through fruited gardens, longing vainly for the sea,
One to purl 'neath ample bridges, bearing cargoes to the mart,
But ever dreaming f