Poems (Henley)/Or ever the knightly years were gone

by William Ernest Henley

XXXVII To W. A.

Or ever the knightly years were gone With the old world to the grave,I was a King in Babylon And you were a Christian Slave.

I saw, I took, I cast you by, I bent and broke your pride.You loved me well, or I heard them lie, But your longing was denied.Surely I knew that by and by You cursed your gods and died.

And a myriad suns have set and shone Since then upon the graveDecreed by the King in Babylon To her that had been his Slave.

The pride I trampled is now my scathe, For it tramples me again. The old resentment lasts like death, For you love, yet you refrain.I break my heart on your hard unfaith, And I break my heart in vain.

Yet not for an hour do I wish undone The deed beyond the grave,When I was a King in Babylon And you were a Virgin Slave.