Eviradnus Flung his strange weapon after him, and they fell, The living emperor, and the lifeless king, Into the dark abyss. Closing the stone, Eviradnus put on his mail, and set The hall in order. And when he had placed The iron image on its horse, the dawn Gleamed through the windows, and the noise And murmur of the people of Lusace Coming with branches of green broom to greet Their lady, filled the air. Mahaud awoke. "Where is my troubadour and lute-player?" She said. Eviradnus bent over her, His old grey eyes shining with tenderness. "Lady," he said, "I hope that you slept well?" _The Temple of the Captives_ The high-priest said unto the King of Kings: "We need a temple to commemorate Your glorious victories." The King of Kings Called unto him the captives he had made, And bade them build the temple, and he asked: "Is there a man among you who can plan And raise this monument unto my fame?" "No," said they. "Kill a hundred of these slaves!" The King of Kings exclaimed. And this was done. One of the captives promised then to build A temple on the mountain looking down Upon the city of the King of Kings. Loaded with chains, the prisoners were dragged Along the streets and up the mountain track, And there they toiled with grim and angry eyes, Cutting a building in the solid rock. "'Tis but a cavern!" said the King of Kings. "We found a lion's lair," the captive said, "And fashioned it into your monument. Enter, O King of Kings, and see the work Your slaves have built for you!" The conqueror And captive entered. To a royal throne The King of Kings was led, that he might view The temple; and the builder flung himself Face downwards at his feet. Then, suddenly, The throne began to sink below the floor. "Where are we going?" said the King of Kings. "Down the deep pit into the inner hall!" The captive said. A sound like thunder rang Above them, and the King of Kings exclaimed: "What noise was that?" "The block of stone That covers in this pit," the captive said, "Has fallen in its place!" The King of Kings Groped in the darkness, and with trembling voice He asked: "Is there no way out of this pit?" "Surely," the captive said, "the King of Kings, Whose hands are swift like lightning, and whose feet Tread down all nations, can find out a way?" "There is no light, no sound, no breath of air!" Cried out the King of Kings. "Why is it dark And cold within the temple to my fame?" "Because," the captive said, "it is your tomb!" _Jean Chouan_