Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1822.pdf/63



And flung her on his neck and wept. He was not one that prayers or tears might move; For he had never known that passion's power, And could not pardon it in others. Love To him was folly and a feverish dream, A girl's so vain romance—he did but mock Its truth and its devotion. "You shall win Your lady love," he said with scornful smile, "If you can bear her, ere the sun is set, To yonder summit: 'tis but a light burthen, And I have heard that lovers can do wonders!" He deemed it might not be; but what has love E'er found impossible! - - - - - took his mistress in his arms. Crowds gathered round to look on the pale youth And his yet paler ; but she hid Her face upon his bosom, and her hair, Whose loose black tresses floated on the wind, Was wet with tears! - - They paused to rest awhile Beneath a mulberry's cool sanctuary— (Ill-omened tree, two lovers met their death Beneath thy treacherous shade! 'Twas in old time Even as now:)—it spread its branches round, The fruit hung like dark rubies 'mid the green Of the thick leaves, and there like treasures shone Balls of bright gold, the silk-worm's summer palace. spoke most cheerfully, and soothed The weeping girl beside him; but when next He loosed her from his arms he did not speak, And wept in agony to look Upon his burning brow! The veins were swelled, The polished marble of those temples now Was turned to crimson—the large heavy drops Rolled over his flushed cheek—his lips were parched, And moistened but with blood; each breath he drew Was a convulsive gasp! She bathed his face With the cool stream, and laid her cheek to his— Bade him renounce his perilous attempt, And said, at least they now might die together!