Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1823.pdf/89



Around her slender waist and graceful head She had bound new-blown buds. But all fair things Are very fragile, and each scattered bloom Had fallen from the loosened braid: even those Prisoners in the soft hand, which lay like snow Upon the grass, had half escaped; and there She slept amid the roses she had gathered. And round the walls were Pictures: some calm scenes Of Earth's green loveliness, and some whose hues Were caught from faces in whose smile our life Is one of Paradise; and Statues, whose white grace Is as a dream of poetry. But, hung Apart from all the rest, as if too dear For aught but solitude, was one,—it was The portrait of a lovely Girl: the lips Were such as Summer kisses, when he first Touches the pure and rosy mouth of Spring; A languid smile lay on them, as just curled By some soft thought, which spoke too in her eyes, Dark and bewildering, whose light is like that Of an Italian midnight, when the clouds Send forth their summer lightning, but yet filled With woman's tenderness. Those lips, those eyes, Had been voluptuous, melting as they were, But for the pale cheek, o'er which e’en a blush Had scarcely passed, it looked so innocent; And the white brow, with its dark parted hair Shading its purity; and the clear temples, Whose blue veins were half hidden by the braids Of the thick tresses, which, unfastened, fell Over the veiled bosom. The white dress Just left the slender throat exposed, as fair As graceful as the cygnet's. Neither gems Nor gold marred youth's sweet simpleness; but one Slight flower lay on her neck,—a green rosebud, Tinged with faint promise of its future bloom; And near it the young Painter leant his head, Bowed as in bitter thought upon his hand; Over his cheek there was a burning red—