Page:Poems Davidson.djvu/45

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AMIR KHAN.
5
Where was that voice that mocked the storm?
Where was that tall, majestic form?
That eye was turned in love and woe
Upon Amreta's changeless brow;
That haughty form was bending low:
That voice was uttering vow on vow,
Beneath the lofty plane-tree's shade,
Before that cold Circassian maid!

"O speak, Amreta! but one word!
Let one soft sigh confess I'm heard!
Those eyes (than those of yon gazelle
More bright) a tale of love might tell!
Then speak, Amreta! raise thine eye,
Blush, smile, or answer with a sigh."

But 'twas in vain: no sigh, no word
Told that his humble suit was heard;
Veiled 'neath their silken lashes there,
Her dark eyes glanced no answered prayer;
Upon her cheek no blush was straying,
Around her lip no smile was playing;
And calm despair reigned darkly now
O'er Amir Khan's deep-clouded brow.

What pity that so fair a form
Should want a heart with feeling warm!
What pity that an eye so bright
Should beam o'er Reason's clouded night!
And like a star on Mahmoud's wave,10
Should glitter o'er a dreary grave: