Letitia Elizabeth Landon

“ Save the one in the heaven above thee.
Now the sweet wild flowers are dying,
And the wind o'er thy grave is sighing;
Not for thy sad sake
Should we wish to break
The deep sleep upon thee lying. ”

“ Flushed the rose hectic on her crimson cheek,
And her eyes filled with strange and passionate light,
As if they burnt themselves away. She died—
But peacefully: 'twas like an angry child,
Whose troubles end in sleep. ”

“ The heart will ever have some feeling more highly toned than those in daily use, and such are the origin of those imaginative expressions universal as the feelings that inspire them. Round the bright hearths of the North, through the fragrant groves of the South, the spirit of song has ever sent a voice. ”

“ That evil omen does it seem
To watch them pine.
Thus I should think, like these will fade
Thy lip of rose—
Like those blue violets, thine eyes
Grow dim and close.
I know the time will come, our star
Of joy must set ”

“ Lough, and described in last week's Literary Gazette.
Glory of earth, and light from heaven,
Young Genius! but for thee,
And the wild wonders to thee given,
How base our earth would be!
Bright halls, where meet the vain and cold,
The idle and the gay,
With feelings cast in one set mould—
Do they redeem our clay?
The mart, where for gold's sordid sake
The trader sears his heart—
Is there aught of the things that make
Our nature's nobler part? ”

“ Is welcome in the sky.
And little will the warder know
What step is gliding near;
One only eye will watch below,
One only ear will hear.
A hundred men keep watch and ward,
But what is that to me? ”

“ You swore to me yon starry ranks
Should sooner leave their homes above;
Yon river change its native banks,
Than you forget your early love.
Each starry world its station keeps
In night's blue empire as before ”

“ Tears filled the maiden's raven eyes—
"The lightly won, you lightly prize;
To make you prize the kiss you gain,
It must be won with toil and pain;
And seldom too: so still I say,
You'll have no kiss from me to day." ”

“ This young genius, for he is yet only twenty-four years of age, has already, at an age when others are little advanced in their studies, overleaped the bounds, and burst the trammels which confine ordinary men, and produced works of astonishing power. ”

“ A sweet and fragile blossom, made
To be within the bosom laid.
And there are some beneath whose touch
The coldest hearts expand,
As erst the rocks gave forth their tears
Beneath the prophet's hand ”

“ The Literary Gazette, 31st March 1827, page 204
ORIGINAL POETRY.
THE SPIRIT OF DREAMS.
Spirit of the midnight dream,
What is now upon thy wing?
Earth sleeps in the moonlight beam;
O'er that sleep what wilt thou fling? ”

“ But 'twas such soothing watch she kept."
His look grew soft, his voice sank low:
"My own brave bird, well dost thou know
What thou in thy wild flight couldst see,
More dear than life-blood dear to me." ”

“ I see but human wo.
And cities in their hour of pomp,
The peopled and the proud—
What are they? mighty sepulchres
To gulf a wretched crowd:
Where wealth and want are both secured
Each one the worst to bear ”

“ In London, for about two years, his course must have been one of intense study and prodigious labour, which nothing but the most undaunted spirit and irrepressible enthusiasm could have enabled human nature to sustain. ”

“ Translation of Les Feuilles de Saule. Par
Mde. Aimable Tastu.
"Un jour je m’étais amusé à effeuiller une branche de
saule sur un ruisseau, et à attacher une idée à chaque
feuille, que le courant entrainait."— Chateaubriand. ”

“ The Literary Gazette, 29th September 1827, page 636
ORIGINAL POETRY.
ELISE.
O let me love her! she has past
Into my inmost heart—
A dweller on the hallowed ground
Of its least worldly part ”

“ A shining page instead.
I must forget youth's bloom is fled,
Ere its own measured hours;
I must forget that summer dies,
Even amid its flowers.
And give me more than pleasure's task
Belief that they can be ”

“ The person to whom we allude is a Mr. Lough, the son, we believe, of a small farmer in Northumberland; who, we fear not to predict, is destined to become, at no distant day, one of the greatest sculptors of modern times. ”