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 ownThe 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, Yet it was not that Fantasy Had thrown her mantle over me But that, among the rabble-men, Lion Ambition is chain'd down And crouches to a keeper's hand— Not so in deserts where the grand- 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 throneAnd 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-withered plain, And, failing in thy power to bless, Farewell! for I have won the Earth. When Hope, that eagle that tower'd, could see No cliff beyond him in the sky, His pinions were bent droopingly And homeward turn'd his softened eye. 'Twas sunset: when the sun will part There comes a sullenness of heart To him who still would look upon The glory of the summer sun. That soul will hate the ev'ning mist So often lovely, and will list To the sound of the coming darkness (known To those whose spirits hearken) as one Who, in a dream of night, would fly, But cannot, from a danger nigh. What tho' the moon-the white moon In that time of dreariness, will seem And boyhood is a summer sun And all we seek to keep hath flown- And, tho' my tread was soft and low, A voice came from the threshold stone Of one whom I had earlier known O, I defy thee, Hell, to show Father, I firmly do believe I know-for Death who comes for me From regions of the blest afar, Where there is nothing to deceive, Hath left his iron gate ajar, I do believe that Eblis hath A snare in every human path- From the most unpolluted things Till growing bold, he laughed and leapt |