Page:The Works of the Late Edgar Allan Poe (Volume II).djvu/125

TAMERLANE. 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 ear the crush
 * Of empires—with the captive's prayer—

The 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
 * To fantasies—with none