Dear is thy heart mid the best and the brightest, Yet not against these my famed blade will I bare.

Nay, what hast thou heard of their babble and baseness?

Full enough, friend—content thee, my lips shall not speak it, The same hour wherein they have said that I love thee. Suffice it, folk need me no more: the deliverance, Dear bought in the days past, their hearts have forgotten, But faintly their dim eyes a feared face remember, Their dull ears remember a stern voice they hated. What then, shall I waken their fear and their hatred, And then wait till fresh terror their memory awaketh, With the semblance of love that they have not to give me? Nay, nay, they are safe from my help and my justice, And I—I am freed, and fresh waxeth my manhood.

It may not be otherwise since thou wilt have it, Yet I say it again, if thou shake out thy banner, Some brave men will be borne unto earth peradventure, Many dastards go trembling to meet their due doom, And then shall come fair days and glory upon me And on all men on earth for thy fame, O King Pharamond.

Yea, I was king once; the songs sung o'er my cradle, Were ballads of battle and deeds of my fathers:     Yea, I was King Pharamond; in no carpeted court-room Bore they the corpse of my father before me; But on grass trodden grey by the hoofs of the war-steeds Did I kneel to his white lips and sword-cloven bosom, As from clutch of dead fingers his notched sword I caught; For a furlong before us the spear-wood was glistening. I was king of this city when here where we stand now Amidst a grim silence I mustered all men folk Who might yet bear a weapon; and no brawl of kings was it That brought war on the city, and silenced the markets And cumbered the haven with crowd of masts sailless, But great countries arisen for our ruin and downfall. I was king of the land, when on all roads were riding The legates of proud princes to pray help and give service—     Yea, I was a great king at last as I sat there, Peace spread far about me, and the love of all people To my palace gates wafted by each wind of the heavens.     —And where sought I all this? with what price did I buy it? Nay, for thou knowest that this fair fame and fortune Came stealing soft-footed to give their gifts to me:     And shall I, who was king once, grow griping and weary In unclosing the clenched fists of niggards who hold them, These gifts that I had once, and, having, scarce heeded? Nay, one 

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