Letitia Elizabeth Landon

“ And faithfully she kept to her first love.
The suitor was denied; and festivals
Were only graced in quiet courtesy
By her sweet presence: but the peasant's hut,
Where want or suffering came, there her low voice
And fairy footstep were familiar things.
Her lute was a companion, and the wind
Caught music from her melancholy song;
And often, in the garden where they met,
She read those old and lovelorn histories
Which, with the poet's aid, wake pleasant tears—
For unreal sorrow is the luxury
Of youth and hope. 'Twas in this happy time
The artist took his likeness of her face. ”

“ Up climb'd the sweet pea,
The butterfly of flowers:—I love it not,
Though every hue—and it has many tints—
Are dyed as if the sunset evening clouds
Had fallen to the earth in sudden rain,
And left their colours: purple, delicate pink,
And snowy white, are on thy wing-like leaves;
But thou art all too forward in thy bloom;
Thy blossoms are the sun's, and cling to all
That can support them into open day:
And then they die, leaving no root behind,
The hope and promise of another spring;
And no perfume, whose lingering gratitude
Remains round what upheld its summer's life. ”

“ This is a night for the maiden to pray,
Whose heart has been given, whose love is away!
Young is the maiden that watches the sky,
There is no love on her cheek, or her eye.—
Love doth colour the young cheek with rose,
Like the tide in the moonshine, it ebbs and flows.—
Now passionate pale—now fain to hide
The sudden rush of its crimson tide ”

“ Where love-thoughts once were writ, the quiet stars
Like angels glorifying the still night.
They do not wear the light that once they wore,
Their poetry is gone—for that which made
The spirit of their beauty was in us
And from ourselves, and we are wholly changed,
And look on things with cold and altered eyes;
For the grave casts its darkness long before
We stand upon its brink! ”

“ The earliest violets breathe, through the grass,
A message that woos me to stay as I pass;
For I am the first, in the spring, to discover
Their blue eyes, that laugh as they welcomed a lover.
⁠IV.
The morning is glad and the morning is fair,
Song, sunshine, and fragrance awake in the air;
I feel like a flower that rejoices in light—
Yet dearer to me is the presence of night. ”

“ Wrapt in his cloak a noble knight stept to and fro that deck,
Revolving all those gentler thoughts the busier day-hours check.
A thousand sad sweet influences in truth and beauty lie,
Within the quiet atmosphere of a lone starry sky.
A shower of glittering sparkles fell from off the dashing oar,
As a little boat shot rapidly from an old oak on shore:
His eye and pulse grew quick, the knight's, his heart kept no true time
In its unsteady beating, with the light oars' measured chime. ”

“ If extinct, you need only light more.
When one vein of silver's exhausted,
'Tis easy another to try;
There are fountains enough in the desert,
Though that by your palm-tree be dry:
When an India of gems is around you,
Why ask for the one you have not?
Though the roc in your hall may be wanting,
Be contented with what you have got.
Come to-night, for the white blossomed myrtle
Is flinging its love-sighs around ”

“ Where foreign plants are ranged, and greenhouse flowers:
The white camelia in soft ivory carved—
The cactus, like a shining serpent, wreathed
With a red crown of rubies—orange trees
With small gold fruits, and buds that are like snow.
On such a terrace stands the maiden here:
So fair a face must love and be beloved
By summer flowers; each has so much of each
In either's nature. ”

“ The ground was strewn with cactus flowers, the fragile and the fair—
Fit emblems of our early hopes—so perishing they are;
The jasmine made a starry roof, like some Arabian hall;
And sweet there floated on the air a distant fountain's fall.
She leant her head upon her hand: "I know not which to choose—
Alas! whichever choice I make, the other I must lose.
They say my eyes are like the stars; and if they are so bright,
Methinks they should be as those stars, and shed o'er all their light. ”

“ Bears ever witness to a calm delight
Shed o'er the hours of such as nurse its bloom.
Two lean beside the window: one whose brow
Bears evidence of many a chastened grief,
For it is sad but calm—her cheek is pale,
And touching in its beauty—'tis so meek,
So kind, with light that suits an angel's face
Who dreams of heaven. By her side is one
Younger, and exquisitely beautiful,
With large blue eyes, the darker for their tears ”

“ Faithful through all that the faith of love endangers,
Though we feel that the dream of our earlier love is gone.
We have heard the heart's religion, its holy truth derided,
And the sneer, if not admitted has yet profaned;
By the world's many busy cares our thoughts have been divided,
And selfishness has harden'd whatever ground it gain'd. ”

“ A spirit-king in heaven.
But now that knowledge great and high
Is kindled in man's soul,
We know thee but the glorious part
Of a more glorious whole.
Oh, mysteries of night! that fill
The mind with awe and love! ”

“ Of nature and of spring,
With all that gives thee pleasure,
My heart to thine shall cling.
The rose shall be enchanted
To breathe of love to thee;
All fair things shall be haunted
With vows of faith from me. ”

“ Morn's freshness is with morning past—
We love not as of yore.
We have grown selfish, and we know
The strength of chance and change;
For many a voice is altered now,
And many an eye grown strange. ”

“ They say that, hung in ancient halls,
At midnight from the silent lute
A melancholy music falls
From chords which were by daylight mute.
And so the human heart by night
Is touched by some inspired tone,
Harmonious in the deep delight,
By day it knew not was its own. ”

“ On youth, and hope, and innocence, was made
To close those soft blue eyes. What can they know
Of this world's sorrow, strife, and anxiousness?
What can Wealth be to the young mind that has
A mine of treasure in its own fresh feelings? ”

“ I pray thee leave me not; my heart
So passionately clings to thee;
Oh, give me time, I'll try to part
With life—for love is life to me.
A little while—I cannot bear
The presence of my great despair ”

“ Great Heaven! what vain beliefs
Have stirred the pulse and led the hopes of man!
As if that honour could be bought by blood,
And that the fierce right hand was better worth
Than the fine mind, and high and generous heart!—
Blame not the lovers—'twas their age's fault; ”

“ I care not for a heart whose youth
Is gone before its years,
Which makes a mockery of truth,
Which finds a boast in tears.
That is not love, when idleness
Would fill a listless hour—
'Tis vanity, which prizes less
The passion than the power. ”

“ My heart's world has been long o'erthrown,
It is no more of flowers;
Their bloom is past, their breath is flown,
Yet I recal those hours.
Let nature spread her loveliest,
By spring or summer nurst ”

“ O beauty of the midnight skies!
O mystery of each distant star!
O dreaming hours, whose magic lies
In rest and calm, with Day afar!
Thanks for the higher moods that wake
Our thoughtful and immortal part!—
Out on our life, could we not make
A spiritual temple of the heart! ”

“ When wanderer no longer on life's weary shore,
I may kneel at thy feet, and part from thee no more;
While death holds such hope forth to soothe and to save,
Oh sunbeam of heaven thou mayest well light the grave. ”

“ Then was I hopeful in the scented weed
That, clustering at my casement, filled the cell
With its sweet breathings. I could see a Power
As watchful of the little as the great:
The fragile flower was cared for as the star. ”

“ The heart has its omens, and mine are of sorrow—
I know that our future has anguish and tears.
I see the clouds pass o'er the stars, and my spirit
Grows dark as the terrors which round it are thrown:
Ah, Surrey! whatever my lot may inherit,
I care not, so suffering but reach me alone. ”

“ A calm and a lowly one,
But passed in blessing and peace,
As that fair star has done.
Oh! what is the brightest hour
That ever to earth was given,
To the beauty of that mild light,
Which is direct from heaven! ”

“ While kneeling at your lady's feet another dame past by,
The lion in her haughty step, the eagle in her eye.
‘And doth the good knight barter gems? God's truth, we'll do the same.'
A pleasant meaning lit the smile, that to her proud eyes came. ”

“ I'll tell it now,
That it may bring its lessons—faith and hope;
Show how the heart is schooled by suffering,
And how earth's sorrow may be guide to heaven!
You know that I am not a native here ”

“ Say, rather, 'tis my all;
Henceforth a veil o'er life is cast—
I live but to recall.
I have no future—could I bear
To dream a dream you do not share?
It is hope makes futurity—
What, now, has hope to do with me? ”

“ Which winds amid the lime-trees—'tis in vain;
The last hoof-tramp has perished on the wind
Two hours agone. Now dry thy tears, dear child;
I would not check the natural tenderness,
The grief, the young and loved at parting feel;
But I must blame this utter yielding woe,
Which feeds upon indulgence, and forgets
Womanly fortitude and gentleness,
Making the strength it finds in patient hope. ”

“ Of what art thou singing?
Yet in vain I ask;
Many moods doth music
Bring its graceful task.
Strange must be the sorrow,
Dark must be the hour,
Which would not, bright ladye,
Own thy harp and power. ”

“ Our last was even as our first—light, volatile and vain;
The dance was done, the song was sung, we never met again;—
There was little to remember, and nothing to regret,
Love touches not the flatterer, love chains not the coquette. ”

“ A star has left its sphere;
The beautiful—and do they die
In yon bright world as here?
Will that star leave a lonely place,
A darkness on the night?—
No; few will miss its lovely face,
And none think heaven less bright! ”

“ In which night has bound me,
Wherefore, wherefore should I wake
To the cold world around me?
Dreaming only, faithless love
Will not win to leave us;
Dreaming only, may we trust
Hope will not deceive us ”

“ As that war-blast pass'd by,
And redder grew each warrior cheek,
Brighter each warrior eye.
But other cheeks grew pale to hear,
And other eyes grew dim;
Woman shares not man's battle joy—
That joy is all for him. ”

“ When Joy, a wearied bird, begins
To droop the wing, to seek the shade;—
When thine own heart at length has felt,
What thou hast made another feel—
The hope that sickens to despair,
The wound that time may sear, not heal ”

“ In thy depths have found a grave.
Thus it is the waves of time,
Bear the heart's resolves away,
Useless all, and life's best part
Thus becomes the spoiler's prey.
Woe for man's weak foolishness,
Playing thus the infant's part ”

“ Ours is her laughter—ours her gentle weeping.
Be those dark eyes long ignorant of tears—
Clear be the summer sky that bendeth o’er thee;
Be Hope the planet which thy fate enspheres,
And long and bright the path life spreads before thee. ”

“ To young hearts bound in one fond vow.
Oh! human love, how vain is thy trust;
Hope! how soon art thou laid in dust.
Thou fatal pilgrim, who art thou,
As thou fling'st the black veil from thy shadowy brow? ”

“ Upon that English knight,
The prisoner of the buried cell
Where day forgot its light?
It is a weary thing to lie
With weak and fetter'd hand,
While youth's brave time is passing by,
And rust creeps o'er the brand. ”

“ From any youthful cheek,
And soon the weary eyes will close
Which hope not what they seek:
When dreams bring that loved face by night
We never see by day,
Then the heart sickens at the light,
And the look turns away. ”

“ All these, and more, are in thy Ernest's lot;
Yet not the less his life is in God's hand,
As much as when he wandered through our vales
With thy sweet eyes upon him: trust in heaven—
Prayer and submission bring their blessing down.
Dear child! I know your sorrow, though my heart
Now only beats unto a measured time;
Yet once its pulse was agony; I wept
Tears passionate and vain. Oft have you asked
My early history ”

“ Altho' it was so dear,
I only prayed to live within
Its perfum'd atmosphere.
We met; what did that meeting teach
But what I long have known—
That thou wert changed, yet that my heart
Was utterly thine own. ”

“ Thou that art wreathed round the lyre of the bard,
When the song of its sweetness has won its reward.
Earth's changeless and sacred—thou proud laurel tree!
The ears of the midnight, why hang they on thee? ”

“ And her words like the red wine their spirit poured.
"On! on!" she said, "with a dauntless brow,
The star of the Medici's dominant now."
Her spirit passed in its earnest words,
As the harp that breaks from its over-wrought chords. ”