There reigned a king in the land of Persia, mighty and
great was he grown,
On the necks of the kings of the conquered earth he builded up
his throne.

There sate a king on the throne of Persia; and he was grown so
proud
That all the life of the world was less to him than a passing
cloud.

He reigned in glory: joy and sorrow lying between his hands.
If he sighed a nation shook, his smile ripened the harvest of
lands.

He was the saddest man beneath the everlasting sky,
For all his glories had left him old, and the proudest king must
die.

He who was even as God to all the nations of men,
Must die as the merest peasant dies, and turn into earth again.

And his life with the fear of death was bitter and sick and
accursed,
As brackish water to drink of which is to be forever athirst.

The hateful years rolled on and on, but once it chanced at noon
The drowsy court was thrilled to gladness, it echoed so sweet a
tune.