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 !
Idea! which bindest life around
With music of so strange a sound
And beauty of so wild a birth —
Farewell ! for I have won the Earth.

And who her sov'reign ? Timur he
Whom th' astonish'd earth hath seen,
With victory, on victory,
Redoubling age! and more, I ween,
The Zinghis' yet re-echoing fame.
And now what has he? what ! a name.
The sound of revelry by night
Comes o'er me, with the mingled voice
Of many with a breast as light,
As if 't were not the dying hour
Of one, in whom they did rejoice --
As in a leader, haply -- Power
Its venom secretly imparts ;
Nothing have I with human hearts.

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When Hope, the eagle that tower'd, could see

No cliff beyond him in the sky,
His pinions were bent droopingly —

And homeward turn’d his soften'd eye.
'T was 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 harken) as one
Who, in a dream of night, would fly
But cannot from a danger nigh.

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I still was young; and well I ween
My spirit what it e'er had been.
My eyes were still on pomp and power,
My wilder'd heart was far away,
In vallies of the wild Taglay,
In mine own Ada's matted bow'r.
I dwelt not long in Samarcand
Ere, in a peasant's lowly guise,
I sought my long-abandon'd land,
By sunset did its mountains rise
In dusky grandeur to my eyes :
But as I wander'd on the way
My heart sunk with the sun's ray.
To him, who still would gaze upon
The glory of the summer sun,
There comes, when that sun will from him part,
A sullen hopelessness of heart.
That soul will hate the ev’ning mist
So often lovely, and will lisp
To the sound of the coming darkness [known
To those whose spirits hark’n) as one
Who in a dream of night would fly
But cannot from a danger nigh.

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194 the: that (1831).


What tho' the moon — the white moon —
Shed all the splendor of her noon,
Her smile is chilly — and her beam,
In that time of dreariness, will seem
(So like you gather in your breath)
A portrait taken after death.
And boyhood is a summer sun
Whose waning is the dreariest one.
For all we live to know is known,
And all we seek to keep hath flown.
Let life, then, as the day-flower, fall
With the noon-day beauty — which is all.


I reach'd my home — my home no more —

For all had flown who made it so.

What though the moon — the silvery moon
Shine on his path, in her high noon;
Her smile is chilly, and her beam
In that time of dreariness will seem
As the portrait of one after death;
A likeness taken when the breath
Of young life, and the fire o' the eye,
Had lately been but had pass'd by.
'Tis thus when the lovely summer sun
Of our boyhood, his course hath run:
For all we live to know — is known;
And all we seek to keep — hath flown;
With the noon-day beauty, which is all.
Let life, then, as the day-flow'r, fall —
The trancient, passionate day-flow'r,
Withering at the evning hour.

I reach'd my home — my home no more —
For all was flown that made it so —

202 splendor : beauty (1831).

207-212 Omitted in 1831. 213-221 For these lines, 1831 substitutes the following: I reach'd my home—what home? above, Lonely, like me, the desert rose, My home my hope my early love, Bow'd down with its own glory grows.


I pass'd from out its mossy door,

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
On beds of fire that burn below,
An humbler heart — a deeper wo.



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,
And rays of truth you cannot see

Are flashing thro' Eternity —
I do believe that Eblis hath
A snare in every human path —
Else how, when in the holy grove
I wandered of the idol, Love,
Who daily scents his snowy wings
With incense of burnt offerings


I pass'd from out its mossy door,
In vacant idleness of woe.
There met me on its threshold stone
A mountain hunter, I had known
In childhood but he knew me not.
Something he spoke of the old cot:
It had seen better days, he said ;
There rose a fountain once, and there
Full many a fair flow'r rais'd its head:
But she who reard them was long dead,
And in such follies had no part,
What was there left me now? despair-
A kingdom for a broken — heart.


From the most unpolluted things,
Whose pleasant bowers are yet so riven
Above with trellis'd rays from Heaven
No mote may shun — no tiniest fly-
The lightning of his eagle eye —
How was it that Ambition crept,

Unseen, amid the revels there,
Till growing bold, he laughed and leapt
In the tangles of Love's very hair ?



I saw thee on thy bridal day,
· When a burning blush came o'er thee,
Though happiness around thee lay,

The world all love before thee:

235 unpolluted: undefiled (Yankee, 1831).

243 very: brilliant (Yankee). After this line, 1831 adds the following lines (which are an imperfect draft of A Dream within a Dream):

If my peace hath flown away
In a night or in a day
In a vision or in none -
Is it, therefore, the less gone ?
I was standing 'mid the roar
Of a wind-beaten shore,
And I held within my hand
Some particles of sand -
How bright! And yet to creep
Thro' my fingers to the deep!
My early hopes? no they
Went gloriously away,
Like lightning from the sky
Why in the battle did not I?

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