Or ever the knightly years were gone — William Ernest Henley

Or ever the knightly years were goneWith the old world to the grave,I was a King in BabylonAnd you were a Christian Slave.

I saw, I took, I cast you by,I bent and broke your pride.You loved me well, or I heard them lie,But your longing was denied.Surely I knew that by and byYou cursed your gods and died.

And a myriad suns have set and shoneSince then upon the graveDecreed by the King in BabylonTo her that had been his Slave.

The pride I trampled is now my scathe,For it tramples me again.The old resentment lasts like death,For you love, yet you refrain.I break my heart on your hard unfaith,And I break my heart in vain.

Yet not for an hour do I wish undoneThe deed beyond the grave,When I was a King in BabylonAnd you were a Virgin Slave.