The Complete Poetry. Эдгар Аллан По

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СКАЧАТЬ But hope is not a gift of thine;

       If I can hope (O God! I can) It falls from an eternal shrine.

       II.

      The gay wall of this gaudy tower

       Grows dim around me—death is near.

       I had not thought, until this hour

       When passing from the earth, that ear

       Of any, were it not the shade

       Of one whom in life I made

       All mystery but a simple name,

       Might know the secret of a spirit

       Bow'd down in sorrow, and in shame.—

       Shame, said'st thou?

      Ay, I did inherit

       That hated portion, with the fame,

       The worldly glory, which has shown

       A demon-light around my throne,

       Scorching my sear'd heart with a pain

       Not Hell shall make me fear again.

       III.

      I have not always been as now—

       The fever'd diadem on my brow

       I claim'd and won usurpingly—

       Ay—the same heritage hath given

       Rome to the Cæsar—this to me;

       The heirdom of a kingly mind—

       And a proud spirit, which hath striven

       Triumphantly with human kind.

      In mountain air I first drew life;

       The mists of the Taglay have shed

       Nightly their dews on my young head;

       And my brain drank their venom then,

       When after day of perilous strife

       With chamois, I would seize his den

       And slumber, in my pride of power,

       The infant monarch of the hour—

       For, with the mountain dew by night,

       My soul imbibed unhallow'd feeling;

       And I would feel its essence stealing

       In dreams upon me—while the light

       Flashing from cloud that hover'd o'er,

       Would seem to my half closing eye

       The pageantry of monarchy!

       And the deep thunder's echoing roar

       Came hurriedly upon me, telling

       Of war, and tumult, where my voice,

       My own voice, silly child! was swelling (O how would my wild heart rejoice And leap within me at the cry) The battle cry of victory!

      *****

       IV.

      The rain came down upon my head

       But barely shelter'd—and the wind

       Pass'd quickly o'er me—but my mind

       Was maddening—for 'twas man that shed

       Laurels upon me—and the rush,

       The torrent of the chilly air

       Gurgled in my pleased ear the crush

       Of empires, with the captive's prayer,

       The hum of suitors, the mix'd tone

       Of flattery round a sovereign's throne.

      The storm had ceased—and I awoke—

       Its spirit cradled me to sleep,

       And as it pass'd me by, there broke

       Strange light upon me, tho' it were

       My soul in mystery to steep:

       For I was not as I had been;

       The child of Nature, without care,

       Or thought, save of the passing scene.—

       V.

      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 lived one who, then—

       Then, in my boyhood, when their fire

       Burn'd with a still intenser glow;

       (For passion must with youth expire)

       Even then, who deem'd 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 dare attempt to trace

       The breathing beauty of a face,

       Which even to my impassion'd mind, Leaves not its memory behind. In spring of life have ye ne'er dwelt Some object of delight upon, With steadfast eye, till ye have felt The earth reel—and the vision gone? And I have held to memory's eye One object—and but one—until Its very form hath pass'd me by, But left its influence with me stilL

       VI.

      'Tis not to thee that I should name—

       Thou canst not—wouldst not dare to think

       The magic empire of a flame

       Which even upon this perilous brink

       Hath fix'd my soul, tho' unforgiven,

       By what it lost for passion—Heaven.

       I loved—and O, how tenderly!

       Yes! she [was] worthy of all love!

       Such as in infancy was mine,

       Tho' then its passion could not be: 'Twas such as СКАЧАТЬ