At the taking of the fort

"Inayet Kahn, I have no love for thee!""When have I asked for love? lie still and learnBeneath the stars, how I would give thee all.""But thou art hurting me, thy kisses burn!"

"I shall not hurt thee, if thou willst consent,Resist me not, thou dost but fire my brain,Hinder thou canst not; see, I loose thy handsAnd in a moment capture them again."

"Ah, thou art cruel!" "I shall be crueller yet!Wherefore refuse? I am thy destiny.Millions of years ere ever we were bornIt was decreed that I should come to thee.

"Accepting me thou dost accept thy fate,Since it is written man was born to slay,Slay and be slain, and women in their turnRenew the wasted lives that fall away.

"Ah, blame me not, it was not I who madeThis sad chaotic world that wounds us soWith life and love and death,—aimless alike——""Inayet Kahn! have pity, let me go!"

"For this I slew; for this, I took the fort,—Crashed through the horrors of the blood-stained fight,To the cool twilight and thy chill dissent——""Never will I be slave to thy delight."

"This knife may mar a beauty that resists,And spoils my pleasure." "Slay, then, and have done,Thus there will be no pleasure. Safe in deathI shall escape from thee, Oh, pitiless one!"

"Nay, for thy slender frame would keep its warmthQuite long enough for me to slake this thirst,This dear and desperate need I have of thee;Ah, the desire thou couldst have curbed at first,

"In thy resisting arms has grown so greatI needs must have thy beauty for my own.Though Destiny decrees that I repelThe only lovely thing my life has known!

"I have lived hardly all my days, God knows;Little of women's love has come my way;Strive not with me, thou dost but make me cruel;I could be tender if thou wouldst obey.

"Ay, with a tenderness beyond all wordsCould shed my very soul beneath thy feet,Lay down the whole of youth for one short hour,If thou wouldst share that hour and find it sweet.

"I had such dreams about this night with thee:All through the fight I saw these planets shine.With each new wound my desperate spirit sobbedLet me but live to reach this roof of thine!

"And I have reached it; cool the night-wind blowsAgainst these lips, whose fevered prayers are vain.My broken ankle, dragging on the stone,Has pained me not as thy repulses pain.

"Ah, my beloved one; try to understand;Pity this burnt up mouth with one cool kiss,Thus shalt thou make my madness slave to thee,—Aie! then thou wouldst escape? take this and this!!

•••••"So it is dead; the little and lovely thing,Pinned by my dagger to the earthen floorLiked a wired flower. Ah, well, I had my way,The small clenched hands resisted me no more.

"The soft curved lips spoke no repelling words,I can die now for I am satisfied,And after death I shall demand no moreSince I have had my heaven before I died.

"Now for my knife; thou life-long friend of me,Reluctantly thou leav'st her breast for mine;Well,—'tis the sweetest blood that thou hast drawnWho hast drawn much; I did my work. Do thine——"