As hills seem Alps, when veiled in misty shroud, Some men seem kings, through mists of ignorance; Must we have darkness, then, and cloud on cloud, To give our hills and pigmy kings a chance? Must we conspire to curse the humbling light, Lest some one, at whose feet our fathers bowed, Should suddenly appear, full length, in sight, Scaring to laughter the adoring crowd? Oh, no! God send us light!--Who loses then? The king of slaves and not the king of men. True kings are kings for ever, crowned of God, The King of Kings,--we need not fear for them. ’Tis only the usurper’s diadem That shakes at touch of light, revealing fraud. VASHTI. “After these things, when the wrath of King Ahasuerus was appeased, he remembered Vashti.”--_Book of Esther_ ii. 1. I. Is this all the love that he bore me, my husband, to publish my face To the nobles of Media and Persia, whose hearts are besotted and base? Did he think me a slave, me, Vashti, the Beautiful,[A] me, Queen of Queens, To summon me thus for a show to the midst of his bacchanal scenes? [A] Vashti means “_Beautiful Woman_;” Esther means “_A Star_.” II. I stand like an image of brass, I, Vashti, in sight of such men! No, sooner, a thousand times sooner, the mouth of the lioness’ den, When she’s fiercest with hunger and love for the hungry young lions that tear Her breasts with sharp, innocent teeth, I would enter, aye, sooner than there! III. Did he love me, or is he, too, though the King, but a brute like the rest? I have seen him in wine, and I fancied ’twas then that he loved me the best; Though I think I would rather have one sweet, passionate word from the heart Than a year of caresses that may with the wine that creates them depart. IV. But ever before, in his wine, towards me he shewed honour and grace,-- He was King, I was Queen, and those nobles he made them remember their place; But now all is changed: I am vile, they are honoured, they push me aside,-- A butt for Memucan, and Shethar, and Meres, gone mad in their pride! * * * * * V. Shall I faint? shall I pine? shall I sicken and die for the loss of his love? Not I; I am queen of myself, though the stars fall from heaven above-- The stars! ha! the torment is there, for my light is put out by a _Star_, That has dazzled the eyes of the King and his Court and his Captains of War. * * * * * VI.