Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1822.pdf/94

93 Literary Gazette, 7th December, 1822, Pages 775–776 (cont.) But I—I fled as culprits fly,

By night, watched only by one eye

Whose look was all the world to me,

And it met mine so tenderly,

I thought not of the days to come,

I thought not of my own sweet home,

Nor of mine aged father's sorrow,—

Wild love takes no thought for to-morrow.

I left my home, and I was left

A stranger in his land, bereft

Of even hope; there was not one

Familiar face to look upon.—

Their speech was strange. This penalty

Was meet; but surely not from thee,

False love—'twas not for thee to break

The heart but sullied for thy sake!—

I could have wished once more to see

Thy green hills, loveliest Italy!

I could have wished yet to have hung

Upon the music of thy tongue;

I could have wished thy flowers to bloom—

Thy cypress planted by my tomb!

This wish is vain, my grave must be

Far distant from my own country!

I must rest here—Oh lay me then

By the white church in yonder glen;

Amid the darkening elms, it seems,

Thus silvered over by the beams

Of the pale moon, a very shrine

For wounded hearts—it shall be mine!

There is one corner, green and lone,

A dark yew over it has thrown

Long, night-like boughs; 'tis thickly set

With primrose and with violet.

Their bloom's now past; but in the spring

They will be sweet and glistening.

There is a bird, too, of your clime,

That sings there in the winter time;

My funeral hymn his song will be,

Which there are none to chant, save he.