An Ancient Chess King.

Haply some Rajah first in the ages gone

Amid his languid ladies fingered thee,

While a black nightingale, sun-swart as he,

Sang his one wife, love's passionate oraison;

Haply thou may'st have pleased Old Prester John

Among his pastures, when full royally

He sat in tent, grave shepherds at his knee,

While lamps of balsam winked and glimmered on.

What doest thou here? Thy masters are all dead;

My heart is full of ruth and yearning pain

At sight of thee; O king that hast a crown

Outlasting theirs, and tell'st of greatness fled

Through cloud-hung nights of unabated rain

And murmurs of the dark majestic town.