“We were free people till you made us thrall. I was a sailor whom you took at sea While sailing home. This woman that you see You broke upon with murder in the night, To drag her here to die for your delight. This young man is her lover. When he knew That she was taken by your pirate crew, He followed her to save her, or at least Be near her in her grief. Man is a beast, And women are his pasture by your law. This young man was in safety, and he saw His darling taken to the slave-girls’ pen Of weeping in the night and beasts of men. He gave up everything, risked everything, Came to your galley, took the iron ring, Rowed at the bitter oar-loom as a slave, Only for love of her, for hope to save Her from one bruise of all the many bruises That fall upon a woman when she loses Those whom your gang of bloodhounds made her lose. * * * * * “Knowing another law, we could not choose But stamp your law beneath our feet as dust, Its bloodshed and its rapine and its lust, For one clean hour of struggle to be free; She for her passionate pride of chastity, He for his love of her, and I because I’m not too old to glory in the cause Of generous souls who have harsh measure meted. * * * * * “We did the generous thing and are defeated. Boast, then, to-night, when you have drunken deep, Between the singing woman’s song and sleep, That you have tortured to the death three slaves Who spat upon your law and found their graves Helping each other in the generous thing. No mighty triumph for a boast, O King.” * * * * * Then he was silent while the Khalif stared. Never before had any being dared To speak thus to him. All the courtiers paled. We, who had died, expected to be haled To torture there and then before the crowd. It was so silent that the wind seemed loud Clicking a loose slat in the open shutter. I heard the distant breakers at their mutter Upon the Mole, I saw my darling’s face Steady and proud; a breathing filled the place, Men drawing breath until the Khalif spoke. * * * * * His torn dress hung upon him like a cloak. He spoke at last. “You speak of law,” he said. “By climates and by soils the laws are made. Ours is a hawk-law suited to the land, This rock of hawks or eyrie among sand; I am a hawk, the hawk-law pleases me. * * * * *