Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1822.pdf/67



---I learnt the history of the lovely picture: It was a Peasant Girl's, whose soul was given To one as far above her as the pine Towers o'er the lowly violet; yet still She loved, and was beloved again—ere yet The many trammels of the world were flung Around a heart, whose first and latest pulse Throbbed but for beauty: him, the young, the brave Chivalrous Prince, whose name in after years A nation was to worship—that young heart Beat with its first wild passion—that pure feeling Life only once may know. I will not dwell On how Affection's bark was launched and lost:— Love, thou hast hopes like summers, short and bright, Moments of ecstasy, and maddening dreams, Intense delicious throbs! But happiness Is not for thee. If ever thou hast known Quiet, yet deep enjoyment, 'tis or ere Thy presence is confessed; but, once revealed, We bow us down in passionate devotion Vowed to thy altar, then the serpents wake That coil around thy votaries—hopes that make Fears burning arrows—lingering jealousy, And last worst poison of thy cup—neglect! --- ---It matters little how she was forgotten, Or what she felt—a woman can but weep. She prayed her lover but to say Farewell— To meet her by the river where such hours Of happiness had pass'd, and said she knew How much she was beneath him; but she prayed That he would look upon her face once more! ---He sought the spot—upon the beechen tree "Adieu, Henri!" was graven, and his heart Felt cold within him! He turned to the wave, And there the beautiful Peasant floated—death Had sealed love's sacrifice!---L. E. L.