Thou art an emblem of the glow

Of beauty-the unhidden heart –

The playful maziness of art
In old Alberto's daughter;

But when within thy wave she looksWhich glistens then, and tremblesWhy, then, the prettiest of brooks

Her worshipper resembles;

For in his heart, as in thy stream,

Her image deeply lies

His heart which trembles at the beam

Of her soul-searching eyes.

ли

TAMERLANE.

I.

KIND solace in a dying hour!

Such, father, is not (now) my theme

I will not madly deem that power

Of Earth may shrive me of the sin
Unearthly pride hath revelled in-

I have no time to dote or dream :
You call it hope—that fire of fire!
It is but agony of desire:

If I can hope-Oh God! I can—
Its fount is holier-more divine-
I would not call thee fool, old man,
But such is not a gift of thine.

II.

Know thou the secret of a spirit

Bowed from its wild pride into shame.

O yearning heart! I did inherit

Thy withering portion with the fame, The searing glory which hath shone

Amid the Jewels of my throne,

Halo of Hell! and with a pain
Not Hell shall make me fear again-

O craving heart, for the lost flowers
And sunshine of my summer hours!
The undying voice of that dead time,

With its interminable chime,

Rings, in the spirit of a spell,

Upon thy emptiness—a knell.

III.

I have not always been as now:
The fevered diadem on my brow

I claimed and won usurpingly

Hath not the same fierce heirdom given

Rome to the Cæsar--this to me?

The heritage of a kingly mind,

And a proud spirit which hath striven

Triumphantly with human kind.

IV.

On mountain soil I first drew life:
The mists of the Taglay have shed
Nightly their dews upon my head,
And, I believe, the winged strife
And tumult of the headlong air

Have nestled in my very hair.

v.

So late from Heaven-that dew-it fell

('Mid dreams of an unholy night)

Upon me with the touch of Hell,

While the red flashing of the light

From clouds that hung, like banners, o'er, Appeared to my half-closing eye

The pageantry of monarchy,

And the deep trumpet-thunder's roar

Came hurriedly upon me, telling

Of human battle, where my voice