Demetrius, Henry Abbey [best fiction novels of all time txt] 📗

THE SUCCESS OF THE BEGGAR.

In my life I have had two idols, one my country, one my wife,
And I know I loved them faithfully, and both with one accord;
But the day came, beaded falsely on my brittle leash of life,
When perforce I chose between them, through the wisdom of the Lord.

High upon the rocky summit of a cliff in red Algiers,
Raised against the sky of sunset, like a beaker filled with wine,
While each dome is like a bubble that above the brim appears,
Stands the city I was born in, my beloved Constantine.

Nobly rise the brick-roofed houses with their heavy gray stone walls,
While here and there, above them all, the mosque and minaret;
Like the voice of some enchanter sounds the bearded muezzin's calls,
And the rustle of the cypress seems a murmur of regret.

Round the ancient Cintran city runs a dark wall broad and strong,
Like the mailed belt of a warrior, and the gate the buckle seems;
While a tower toward the sunset is a dagger hilted long;
Whose blade is bid in foldings of a circling sash of streams.

Far away the Atlas mountains rear their heads of lasting snow,
And seem like old men grouped around in high-backed chairs of space;
And they bathe their feet like children in the brooks that run below,
Or smoke their pipes in silence till the clouds obscure each face.

I was poor: they say they found me lying naked in the street,
And a beggar so befriended me and brought me to his door,
And cared for me and tended me, until my growing feet
Could patter through the market-place and there increase our store.

I never knew the tenderness of father or of mother;
My tatters scarcely covered me; my hunger made me thin;
I never knew of sympathy or kindness from another;
I drank the cup of bitterness that comes to want and sin.

All my early youth was squandered, when there came across my thought
A passionate intolerance of the course my life had run;
And I went out to the venders and some meagre fruitage bought,
Till with selling and with buying, lo, a new life was begun.

Soon I found myself the owner of vast houses, wares, and sails,
A very prince of traffic, with my slaves beyond the line,
Where they sold my costly merchandise of cloth and cotton bales,
Of many colored leathers, ostrich feathers, dates, and wine.

II.

THE MAIDEN OF THE GOLDEN KIOSK.

In the days when I, a beggar, wandered idly through the street,
Past the palace, through the vineyards where the scented fountains play,
Standing near the golden kiosk, it befell my lot to meet
One for whom my heart grew larger, and I could not turn away.

Long my eyes upon the banquet of her beauty freely fed;
How could I help but love her, whom the angels might adore!
But at last, tired of my staring, she turned away her head;
Yet I saw the large pearls tremble that about her neck she wore.

Either cheek was sea-shell tinted, and around her dewy lips
Played a smile that lingered lovingly, like star gleam on the sea;
Thus emboldened, on my knees I fell, and kissed her finger tips,
And begged of her, and prayed of her that I her slave might be.

I was dark and swarthy featured, comely still in form and face;
My long black hair hung glossily about my neck and head;
My large jet eyes were lustrous, and I had an easy grace
That almost made a kingly robe my ragged garb of red.

I chained the maiden with my arm, I would not let her go;
She said she was Eudocia, that 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 fondly of a meeting yet to be.

And I labored; and my gains accrued and doubled in my hand,
For Fortune having given once will give us more and more;
I was like a stranger passing through some long neglected land,
Who finds beneath each stone he turns a wedge of golden ore.

And I studied, learned all secrets that the wisest books can teach;
Gained the Greek verb's long persistent root at last by prying hard;
Found a natural foreknowledge of the rules and forms of speech,
And drank the fountain water from the words of Scio's bard.

All my ships had favoring breezes, not one sank or went ashore;
The very fat of commerce oozed between their pitchy seams;
And a block of serried buildings did not half contain my store,
While my lavish, thrifty bargains would have dimmed Aladdin's dreams.

Still I changed not my apparel, still I wore my bezan robe,
Still I donned the self-same turban with its frayed and faded red;
I would have no other garb then had I owned the whirling globe;
Better rich to wear a tatter, than poor, wear silk, I said.

Daily from my mullioned window flew a pigeon in the air,
And beneath its wing lay folded lines for her I loved the best;
Daily from her palace window it returned and brought me there,
Rhymeless idyls full of heart-speech, faithful ardors of her breast.

Ah, dear love, she waited patiently with mournful, longing eyes,
Like the moon she waited nightly for the cloud to pass her brow;
Like the birds she waited daily for the coming in the skies
Of the other bringing succor to the hunger on the bough.

And all wealth was lost upon her, for she had to look upon
Art's own pictures, Spring-time raptures, Autumn clad in ballet mist;
And she dined on sweets and spices, coffee, bread and cinnamon,
While they shook perfumes about her, or her cushioned slippers kissed.

Down her back her hair, unfastened from its jeweled comb of gold,
Wasted fragrance, seemed a cascade plunging down a deep ravine;
Seemed the black wing of a raven who had ventured overbold,
And was perched upon her forehead that its beauty might be seen.

Every day in milk she bathed her, till at last she was as white;
Dyed with almond kohl her eyelids, and her nails with henna tinged;
Supped on amber wine and honey; but she tasted no delight.
She slept 'neath silken curtains with musk-scented laces fringed.

But at last the ready day came, that my hopes had longed to meet,
When I cast aside the tatters I had worn for many years,
And arrayed my perfect person from my head down to my feet,
With the garments that became me, with the velvet of my peers.

Then I bought me restless chargers, Ukraine steeds, five white, six black;
The eleventh was the noblest, yet the gentlest of all;
And a friend I had who loved me to bestride each horse's back--
Ten friends of handsome presence, smooth demeanor, strong, and tall.

Every friend I gave a cloak to, purple velvet ermine-bound;
Every charger was caparisoned--the harness wrought with gold.
At high noon we started gayly, and the palace entrance found;
And I sought the statesman Yorghi with a purpose to unfold.

I had come to wed his daughter; all her heart had long been mine;
I had won her when a beggar, but I loved her more and more
Now that my wealth was boundless--it but strengthened my design;
If he gave her I would cede him half my fortune, store on store.

In my face he laughed, me scorning, and despised me and my part--
Called me still a beggar wealthy, and bade me turn away;
Said Eudocia was his daughter--he knew nothing of her heart;
He had pledged her hand and fortune to my ruler, Ahmed Bey.

There are times when our resentment centres solely in a glance,
When our feelings burn too deeply for effectiveness in speech;
Such a look I gave to Yorghi as I led out in advance,
While my ten friends followed after with brave consolation each.

IV.

DEMETRIUS FOR EUDOCIA BETRAYS CONSTANTINE.

Now a war like distant thunder muttered in the darkened air;
In the sky a fowl of omen hovered o'er to rob our graves;
And men, like birds affrighted, hurried homeward in despair.
We heard the tramp of armies like the far-off march of waves.

War a pestilent disease is on the body of the world--
A disease that sometimes purges, but still leaves the victim sore;
And no potent drug will cure it until Liberty has furled
All the standards of the nations, and shall rule for evermore.

What availed my marble buildings where I bartered for my gold?
All my gains were vainly gotten, for Eudocia was not mine.
Then my goods I turned to money, all my ships and houses sold,
And sent the glittering product far away from Constantine.

On us like a wild hawk swooping came Damremont with his men;
But we saw his wing-like banners