EDGAR ALLAN POE TAMERLANE1 KIND solace in a dying hour! 2 Such, father, is not (now) my theme I will not madly deem that power 1 'Tamerlane,' which first appeared in 1827 in Tamerlane and Other Poems, was entirely re-written for Poe's volume of 1829, Al Aaraaf, Tamerlane, and Minor Poems. The text of the poem as here given is practically that of 1829. It follows the edition of 1845 (as given in the Virginia and Stedman-Woodberry editions of Poe's works), but the differences of this edition from that of 1829 are confined (with one exception) to matters of punctuation and typography. The edition of 1831 offers somewhat greater variations, all of which are carefully recorded in the notes of both the Virginia and the Stedman-Woodberry editions. The version of 1827 is given complete in the notes to both these editions, and may also be found in Mr. R. H. Shepherd's complete reprint of the 1827 volume (London, 1884). The subject of the poem, not very clear at first reading, is the evil triumph of ambition over love, illustrated in the career of the Mogul emperor Tamerlane, who, according to the story as conceived by Poe, was born a shepherd, left his mountain home and his early Love for the conquest of the eastern world, and returned only to find that his love had died of his neglect. The well-worn device of a death-bed narrative to the conventional friar is lamely excused by Poe in his first note to the 1827 edition: How I shall account for giving him "a friar" as a death-bed confessor, I canret exactly determine. He wanted some one to listen to his tale- and why not a friar? It does not pass the bounds of possibility, quite sufficient for my purpose, -and I have at least good authority on my side for such innovations.' 2 The beginning of the poem is somewhat clearer in the 1827 version: I have sent for thee, holy friar : But 't was not with the drunken hope, To shun the fate, with which to cope The gay wall of this gaudy tower Of one whom in life I made All mystery but a simple name, Bow'd down in sorrow, and in shame. — Poe's own somewhat peculiar punctuation is followed throughout, as given in the Virginia edition of Poe's Works. Faithfulness to this punctuation, about which Poe was particular, makes the Virginia edition, in text, superior to all others. Why did I leave it, and, adrift, Trust to the fire within, for light? We grew in age- and love togetherRoaming the forest, and the wild ; My breast her shield in wintry weather And, when the friendly sunshine smil'd, And she would mark the opening skies, 100 I saw no Heaven - but in her eyes. Young Love's first lesson is - the heart: For 'mid that sunshine, and those smiles, When, from our little cares apart, And laughing at her girlish wiles, I'd throw me on her throbbing breast, And pour my spirit out in tearsThere was no need to speak the rest No need to quiet any fears Of her who ask'd no reason why, Yet more than worthy of the love The world, and all it did contain In the earth the air -the sea Its joy its little lot of pain That was new pleasure the ideal, 110 120 Dim, vanities of dreams by night And dimmer nothings which were real(Shadows and a more shadowy light!) Parted upon their misty wings, And, so, confusedly, became Thine image and -a name—a name! Two separate yet most intimate things. versions, the way in which he found himself,' is strikingly illustrated by the characteristic suggestiveness, beauty, and perhaps vagueness of expression in these two paragraphs as they now stand. 1 These ten lines have taken the place of ninetythree lines (sections xi-xiv) in the 1827 edition. 2 I believe it was after the battle of Angora that Tamerlane made Samarcand his residence. It became for a time the seat of learning and the arts. (PoE, 1827.) He was called Timur Bek as well as Tamerlane. (POE, 1827.) Father, I firmly do believe 1 230 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 From the most unpolluted things, Whose pleasant bowers are yet so riven Above with trellic'd rays from Heaven No mote may shun- no tiniest fly The light'ning 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 18217-1829.2 ΤΟ very hair? 240 1827, 1829. I SAW thee on thy bridal day The world all love before thee: 1 This last paragraph of the poem was added in the edition of 1829. In his preface to the original edition of Tamerlane, Poe says: The greater part of the poems which compose this little volume were written in the year 18211822, when the author had not completed his fourteenth year. This statement is not to be trusted implicitly. But even if we assign the composition of these poems to the latest possible date, 1826-1827, the early development of their author seems hardly the less remarkable; for he would then be only seventeen or eighteen years old. Keats was almost twenty-two at the time when his first volume was published. Both in promise and in actual performance,' says Mr. Shepherd in his preface to the 1884 reprint of Tamerlane and Other Poems (quoted by Mr. Harrison), it may claim to rank as the most remarkable production that any English-speaking or English-writing poet of this century has published in his teens.' Poe was only eighteen years old when the volume was published, and it is interesting to note that the printer and publisher of the book, Calvin Thomas of Boston, was then only nineteen years old. On the stars which your wonder 'Till they glance thro' the shade, and Come down to your brow Like eyes of the maiden These star-litten hours That cumber them too— ΤΟ 20 3 This song was introduced in the second part of Al Aaraaf' as being sung to summon the spirit of music, or better the spirit of universal harmony. One of the most beautiful of Poe's tales, called 'Ligeia,' is an even finer embodiment of this conception. Mr. Thomas Wentworth Higginson gives in his Short Studies of American Authors some vivid reminiscences of the evening when Poe read Al Aaraaf' to an audience in Boston. The story is told in more condensed form in Higginson and Boynton's Reader's History of American Literature, page 214: The verses had long since been printed in his youthful volume . . . and they produced no very distinct impression on the audience until Poe began to read the maiden's song in the second part. Already his tones had been softening to a finer melody than at first, and when he came to the verses, Ligein! Ligeia ! My beautiful one! his voice seemed attenuated to the faintest golden thread; the audience became hushed, and, as it were, breathless; there seemed no life in the hall but his; and every syllable was accentuated with such delicacy, and sustained with such sweetness, as I never heard equaled by other lips. When the lyric ended, it was like the ceasing of the gypsy's chant in Browning's "Flight of the Duchess;" and I remember nothing more, except that in walking back to Cambridge my comrades and I felt that we had been under the spell of some wizard. Indeed, I feel much the same in the retrospect, to this day.' |