Stars of the Desert/The Tower of Victory
The Tower of Victory
The starlight night was cool and dim,
Soft clouds beflecked the tranquil sky.
She climbed the hill, and reached with him,
The carven Tower of Victory.
The Tower that rears its lonely head
Above the Jungle, wild and vast,
And dreams, perchance, of warriors dead
Who held the hills in ages past.
Sweet fragrance drifted o'er the land
From Champa trees and Jasmin flowers;
The lovers wandered, hand in hand,
Through long, and all uncounted, hours.
And when the night was mid-way spent
They climbed the dark and broken stair,
Half stifled from the acrid scent
Of countless bats, that harboured there.
The topmost steps had fall'n away,
A time-worn ladder took their place,
Until she felt the night-wind play
In coolness on her upturned face.
At last, they reached the highest stage,
Windswept and open to the stars.
The battlements were worn with age
But waving grasses hid the scars.
The lonely Jungle lay serene,
Beneath the star-bejewelled skies,
They turned them from the silver scene
To seek once more each other's eyes.
But when he caught her to his breast
She shrank in delicate dismay;
So, chilled, he left her uncaressed
And drew his eager arms away.
Her eyes beneath their lashes hid
The tender tears that left them dim,
As down the ladder-rungs he slid
And drew it swiftly after him.
"It must," he cried, "be naught or all;
And I shall come no more to thee
Till from the Tower I hear thee call
To say thou wilt be kind to me!"
"Stay now" she begged. He would not heed,
But down the ruined, twisting stair
He crushed his way with reckless speed
And reached the scented outer air.
But when he scarce had left the Tower
He paused, and felt his anger cease,
Such was the magic of the hour
Its lovely mystery and peace.
•••
Two eyes among the thickets glow;
A stealthy rustle stirs the air;
The Tigress springs, and lays him low,
Then bears him, senseless, to her lair.
There was no sound; he gave no cry;
The careless stars looked on serene.
The Jungle's sudden tragedy
Remained unheard, unknown, unseen.
While on the Tower, she cried in tears,
"Return to me, Beloved of mine,
Forgive me for my foolish fears
Within those tender arms of thine.
"Oh, Brightest Star of all the night
Come back, and shed thy light on me,
And thou shalt learn, to thy delight,
How more than kind I am to thee!"
In vain she cried, in vain she wept,
At times in solitary woe,
Towards the inner edge she crept
And looked, but dared not leap, below.
Before she died, three weary days
She called in anguish on his name.
By twilight cool, or noonday blaze,
Her luckless lover never came.
And since men rarely mount the stones
That form the Tower's ruined stair,
It may be that her small, white bones
Still wait in lonely silence there.
Ah, when Love comes, his wings are swift,
His ways are full of quick surprise;
'Tis well for those who have the gift
To seize him even as he flies!