Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1822.pdf/58



Soft as the music which they echoed; light, And melody, and perfume, and sweet shapes, Mingled together like a glorious dream.— is there! She has forsaken Her woman's garb, her long dark tresses float Like weeds upon the Tagus, and no one Can in that pale and melancholy boy Recall the lovely woman. All in vain She looked for him she sought; but when one past With raven hair and tall, her heart beat high— Then sank again, when her impatient glance Fell on a stranger's face. At length she reached A stately room, richer than all the rest, For there were loveliest things, though not of life: Canvass, to which the painter's soul had given A heaven of beauty; and statues, which were touched With art so exquisite, the marble seemed Animate with emotion. It is strange, Amid its deepest feelings, how the soul Will cling to outward images, as thus It could forget its sickness! There she gazed, And envied the sad smile, the patient look, Of a pale Magdalen: it told of grief, But grief long since subdued. Half curtained round By vases filled with fragrant shrubs, were shapes Of Grecian deities and nymphs: she drew Sad parallels with her of Crete, who wept O'er her Athenian lover's perjury. She left the hall of paintings, and pursued A corridor which opened to the air, And entered in the garden: there awhile, Beneath the shadow of a cypress tree, She breathed the cooling gale. Amid the shade Of those bright groves were ladies lingering, Who listened to most gentle things, and then Blushed like the roses near them; and light groups Of gladsome dancers, gliding o'er the turf, Like elfin revelling by the moonlight.