Or ever the knightly years were gone
  With the old world to the grave, 
I was a King in Babylon
  And 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 by
  You cursed your gods and died.

And a myriad suns have set and shone
  Since then upon the grave 
Decreed by the King of Babylon,
  To 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 undone
  The deed beyond the grave, 
When I was a King in Babylon
  And you were a Virgin Slave.