The King
Seven full-paunched eunuchs came to me,
Bearing before them upon a silver shield
The secrets of my enemy.
As they crossed my threshold to stand,
With stately and hypocritical gesture
In a row before me,
One stumbled.
The dull, incurious eyes of the others
Blazed into no laughter,
Only a haggard malice
At the discomfiture
Of their companion.
Why should such T h i n g s have power
Not spoken for in the rules of men?
I would not receive them.
With my head covered I motioned them
To go forth from my presence.
Where shall I find an enemy
Worthy of me as him they defaced?
As they left me,
Bearing with them
Lewd shield and scarlet crown,
One paused upon the threshold,
Insolent,
To sniff a flower.
Even him I permitted to go forth
Safely.
. . . . . .
Therefore
I have renounced my kingdom;
In a little bronze boat I have set sail
Out
Upon the sea.
There is no land, and the sea
Is black like the cypresses waiting
At midnight in the place of tombs;
Is black like the pool of ink
In the palm of a soothsayer.
My boat
Fears the white-lipped waves
That snatch at her,
Hungrily,
Furtively,
As they steal past like cats
Into the night:
And beneath me, in their hidden places,
The great fishes talk of me
In a tongue I have forgotten.