Classic Poem

AS " OTHELLO . "

Oh, how my soul blooms up and clings to thine,
When from the distant Turks thou com'st to claim
With artless diction and with pulse of flame,
Thy Desdemona's eager love benign!

Thy heart of bronze by twenty wars untame,
Throbs with delicious passion, leoline
Of force, yet like a child's in charm; thine aim
Aspires to cull what she would fain resign!

But when Iago with foul phrasing tells
The bitter lies no scorn can e'er assuage;
How thy swart face reveals the hidden Hells
That seethe within thee, and mad tumult wage!
Then as thy frenzied anger grandly swells,
I love to hear the splendors of thy rage!