THE KING'S MEMENTO MORI.
Into the regal face the risen sun
Laughed, and he whispered in dismay:
"How is it, Victor of the World, that none
Remind you what you are, to-day?
Laughed, and he whispered in dismay:
"How is it, Victor of the World, that none
Remind you what you are, to-day?
"Your sword shall teach the slave, who could forget
That men are mortal, what they are!
How dared he sleep,—he has not warned me yet,—
After that last, loth, lagging star?"
That men are mortal, what they are!
How dared he sleep,—he has not warned me yet,—
After that last, loth, lagging star?"
. . . Across his palace threshold, wan and still,
His morning herald, wet with dew,
Stared at him with fixed eyes that well might chill
The vanity of earth clean through.
His morning herald, wet with dew,
Stared at him with fixed eyes that well might chill
The vanity of earth clean through.
"Good-morrow, King," he heard the dead lips say,
"See what is man. When did I tell
My bitter message to my lord, I pray,
So reverently and so well?"
"See what is man. When did I tell
My bitter message to my lord, I pray,
So reverently and so well?"
