Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1824.pdf/70



Ceased the unearthly song, and Threw her on 's breast, and wept, and said It was her warrior's dirge and hers—for never Such sad sweet sounds had breathed on mortal ear, And yet no omen. But her kiss'd Her tears away; and whispered 'twas the song Of some kind Spirit, who would guard his love While he was fighting for the Cross afar. Oh, who can tell the broken-heartedness Of parting moments!—the fond words that gush From the full heart, and yet die in the throat, Whose pulses are too choked for utterance; The lingering look of eyes, half blind with tears; The yet more lingering kiss, as if it were The last long breath of life! Then the slow step, Changing anon to one of hurried speed, As that the heart doubted its own resolve! The fixed gaze of her, who, left behind, Watching till shadows grow reality! And then the sudden and sick consciousness— How desolate we are!—Oh, misery! Thy watchword is, Farewell!—And took A few sweet buds from off a myrtle tree, And swore to, before the spring Had covered twice that plant with its white flowers He would return. With the next morning's sun Lord led his vassals to the war, And was left to solitude— The worst of solitude, of home and heart. If I must part from those whom I have loved, Let me, too, part from where they were beloved! It wrings the heart to see each thing the same; Tread over the same steps; and then to find The difference in the heart. It is so sad— So very lonely—to be the sole one In whom there is a sign of change! - - -