Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1822.pdf/62



Alas, that circumstance has power to part The destiny of true lovers! Yonder rock Has a wild legend of untoward love, Fond, faithful, and unhappy! There it stands By the blue Guadalquivir; the green vines Are like a girdle round the granite pillars Of its bare crags, and its dark shadow falls Over an ancient castle at the base. Its Lord had a fair Daughter, his sole child,— Her picture is in the old gallery still; The frame is shattered, but the lovely face Looks out in all its beauty; 'tis a brow Fresh, radiant as the spring,—a pencilled arch, One soft dark shadow upon mountain snow; A small white hand flings back the raven curls From off the blue-veined temples; on her cheek There is a colour like the moss-rose bud When first it opens, ere the sun and wind Have kissed away its delicate slight blush; And such a fairy shape, as those fine moulds Of ancient Greece, whose perfect grace has given Eternity to beauty. It was drawn By one who loved her—an Italian boy— That worshipped the the sweet. He was one Who had each great and glorious gift, save gold; He wandered from his native land:—to him There was deep happiness in nature's wild And rich luxuriance, and he had the pride, The buoyant hope, that genius ever feels In dreaming of the path that it will carve To immortality. A sweeter dream Soon filled the young heart: he loved, And all around grew paradise,— Became to him existence, and her heart Soon yielded to his gentle constancy. They had roamed forth together: the bright dew Was on the flowers that he knelt and gave, Sweet tribute to his idol. A dark brow Was bent upon them—'tis her father's brow!