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Out from Jerusalem The king rode with his great War chiefs and lords of state, And Sheba's queen with them; Comely, but black withal, To whom, perchance, belongs That wondrous Song of Songs, Sensuous and mystical, Whereto devout souls turn In fond, ecstatic dream, And through its earth-born theme The Love of loves discern. Proud in the Syrian sun, In gold and purple sheen, The dusky Ethiop queen Smiled on King Solomon. Wisest of men, he knew The languages of all The creatures great and small That trod the earth or flew. Across an ant-hill led The king's path, and he heard Its small folk, and their word He thus interpreted: "Here comes the king men greet As wise and good and just, To crush us in the dust Under his heedless feet." The great king bowed his head, And saw the wide surprise Of the Queen of Sheba's eyes As he told her what they said. "O king!" she whispered sweet, "Too happy fate have they Who perish in thy way Beneath thy gracious feet! "Thou of the God-lent crown, Shall these vile creatures dare Murmur against thee where The knees of kings kneel down?" "Nay," Solomon replied, "The wise and strong should seek The welfare of the weak," And turned his horse aside. His train, with quick alarm, Curved with their leader round The ant-hill's peopled mound, And left it free from harm. The jewelled head bent low; "O king!" she said, "henceforth The secret of thy worth And wisdom well I know. "Happy must be the State Whose ruler heedeth more The murmurs of the poor Than flatteries of the great." |