The rain came down upon my head

Unshelter'd and the heavy wind

Rendered me mad and deaf and blind.
It was but man, I thought, who shed
Laurels upon me: and the rush -
The torrent of the chilly air

Gurgled within my car the crush

Of empires with the captive's prayerThe hum of suitors — and the tone

Of flattery 'round a sovereign's throne.

My passions, from that hapless hour,
Usurp'd a tyranny which men.

Have deem'd, since I have reach'd to power,
My innate nature - be it so :

But, father, there liv'd one who, then,

Then

in my boyhood when their fire Burn'd with a still intenser glow (For passion must, with youth, expire) E'en then who knew this iron heart In woman's weakness had a part.

I have no words alas!

-

to tell

The loveliness of loving well!

Nor would I now attempt to trace
The more than beauty of a face
Whose lineaments, upon my mind,

Are shadows on th' unstable wind:

Thus I remember having dwelt
Some page of early lore upon,
With loitering eye, till I have felt

The letters with their meaning — melt with none.

To fantasies

O, she was worthy of all love!

Love as in infancy was mine — 'T was such as angel minds above Might envy; her young heart the shrine On which my every hope and thought Were incense - then a goodly gift,

For they were childish and upright— Pure as her young example taught: Why did I leave it, and, adrift, Trust to the fire within, for light?

We grew in age and love together -
Roaming the forest and the wild;
My breast her shield in wintry weather
And when the friendly sunshine smil'd,
And she would mark the opening skies,
I saw no Heaven - but in her eyes.

Young Love's first lesson is the heart:

For 'mid that sunshine, and those smiles, When, from our little cares apart,

And laughing at her girlish wiles,

I'd throw me on her throbbing breast,

-

And pour my spirit out in tears There was no need to speak the rest No need to quiet any fears

Of her who ask'd no reason why,

But turn'd on me her quiet eye!

Yet more than worthy of the love
My spirit struggled with, and strove,
When, on the mountain-peak, alone,
Ambition lent it a new tone

That was new pleasure the ideal,

Dim vanities of dreams by night —

And dimmer nothings which were real

(Shadows and a more shadowy light!) Parted upon their misty wings,

And so, confusedly, became

Thine image and

a name

a name!

Two separate yet most intimate things.

I was ambitious

- have you known

The passion, father? You have not:

A cottager, I mark'd a throne

Of half the world as all my own,

And murmur'd at such lowly lotBut, just like any other dream,

Upon the vapor of the dew

My own had past, did not the beam

Of beauty which did while it thro'

The minute - the hour - the day- oppress
My mind with double loveliness.

We walk'd together on the crown
Of a high mountain which look'd down
Afar from its proud natural towers
Of rock and forest, on the hills —
The dwindled hills! begirt with bowers
And shouting with a thousand rills.

I spoke to her of power and pride,
But mystically — in such guise
That she might deem it nought beside
The moment's converse; in her eyes
I read, perhaps too carelessly,

A mingled feeling with my own ;
The flush on her bright cheek, to me

Seem'd to become a queenly throne Too well that I should let it be

Light in the wilderness alone.

I wrapp'd myself in grandeur then
And donn'd a visionary crown

Yet it was not that Fantasy
Had thrown her mantle over me
men,

But that, among the rabble

Lion ambition is chain'd downAnd crouches to a keeper's handNot so in deserts where the grand The wild the terrible conspire

With their own breath to fan his fire.

Look 'round thee now on Samarcand! Is she not queen of Earth? her pride Above all cities? in her hand

Their destinies? in all beside

Of glory which the world hath known
Stands she not nobly and alone?

Falling her veriest stepping-stone
Shall form the pedestal of a throne
And who her sovereign? Timour — he
Whom the astonished people saw
Striding o'er empires haughtily
A diadem'd outlaw !

O, human love! thou spirit given,
On Earth, of all we hope in Heaven!
Which fall'st into the soul like rain
Upon the Siroc-wither'd plain,
And, failing in thy power to bless,
But leav'st the heart a wilderness!