Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1823.pdf/44



Of simple childhood, while the other's eyes Have less of dread than sorrow. Still no looks Of love or memory from their father comes; He sits with clenching teeth and grasping hands, Regardless of the gentle pity Which even the dark jailor, whose harsh brow Has no lines of compassion, even he Feels, almost moved to sadness! L. E. L.