Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1822.pdf/76



Alvine. Nay, now I will not listen to the tales Our memory is so rich in. I have much For question here. Who is this glorious shape, That, placed on a bright chariot in the midst, Stands radiant in his youth and loveliness? Around his sunny locks there is a wreath Of the green vine leaves, and his ivory brow Shines out like marble, when a golden ray Of summer light is on it, and his step Scarce seems to touch his pard-drawn car, but floats Buoyant upon the air;—and who is she On whom his ardent gaze is turned? So pale,— Her dark hair gathered round her like a shroud, Yet far more lovely than the sparkling nymphs Dancing around that chariot. Yet how sweet, Though dimmed with tears, those deep blue eyes, that smile Half turned and half averted timidly From the youth's lightning glance. Oh tell me now One of those legends that I love so well: Has not this picture some old history? Leonardi. 'Tis one of those bright fictions that have made The name of Greece only another word For love and poetry; with a green earth— Groves of the graceful myrtle—summer skies, Whose stars are mirror'd in ten thousand streams— Winds that move but in perfume and in music, And, more than all, the gift of woman's beauty. What marvel that the earth, the sky, the sea, Were filled with all those fine imaginings That love creates, and that the lyre preserves!