Or stealthy footed pard blaze in a solemn hate And lust of human blood, yet cannot cry, nor turning Flee from the huddled wood, but stands and sees his fate, Or one who in a black night, groping for his track, Clings to the dizzy verge of a cragged precipice, Shrinks from the dim abyss, yet dare not venture back, And no sound hears but the hiss of empty air Swirling past his ears.... So, in a hideous Abandonment of hope, I waited for her kiss. Then the restless beat of the muttering drum Rose to a frenzied heat; the naked dancers leapt Insolent through the flame, laughing as they came With parted lips; their cries deadened my ears, my eyes Throbbed with the pattering of their rapid feet, And the whirling dust of their dancing swept Into my throat unslaked, dry-parchèd with love’s drought, Until my mouth was pressed upon her burning mouth In a kiss most terrible.... Oh, was it pride, or shame Unending, without name, or ecstasy, or pain Or desperate desire? Alas! I cannot tell, Save that it pierced my trembling soul and body with fire. For, while her soft lips clove to mine in love, she drove A flaming blade of steel into my breast, and I, Rent with a bitter cry, slid from her side and fell Clutching in dumb despair the dark unbraided hair My passion had despoiled; while she, like serpent coiled, Poised for another stroke, terribly, slowly, smiled, Saying: "O stranger, red, red are my lips, and sweet Unto those lips so red are the kisses of the dead: Far hast thou wandered, far, for the kisses of Thamar." Then a deep silence fell on the frenzy and the laughter; The leaping dancers crept to the shadows where they had slept, And the mute eunuchs stood forth, and hugely bent Above my body, spent in its pool of blood, And hove me with black arms, while the queen followed after With stealthy steps, and eyes that burned into the night Of my dying brain, till, with her hand, she bade Them falter, and they stayed, while, eagerly, she propped My listless head that dropped downward from my shoulders, And slowly raised it up, raised it like a cup Unto her lips again, Then shuddered, trembled, shrunk, as though her mouth had drunk A potion where the fell fire of poison smoulders. And a darkness came, and I could see no more, But in my ears the roar of lonely torrents swelled And stilled my breath for ever, as though a wave appalling Had broken in my brain, and deep to deep were calling: And I felt my body falling down and down and down Into a blank of death, where dumb waters roll Endlessly, only knowing, that her dagger had stabbed my breast, But her kiss had killed my soul. And now I know no rest until again I stand Where that lost city’s towers rise from the dreamy sand, Until I reach the gate where the lips of Asia wait, Till I cross the desert’s drought, and the rivers of the south, And shiver through the night under those summits white That soar above Cathay; until I see the light Flame from those tyrannous glooms where, like a tired star