Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1824.pdf/71



There are two words to tell the warrior's course, Valour and Victory. But fortune changed, And was a prisoner at last. And there he lay and pined, till hope grew tired, Even of its sweet self; and now despair Reached its last stage, for it was grown familiar. Change came, when there was not a thought of change But in his dreams. Thanks to a pitying Slave Whom he had spared in battle, he escaped! And over sea and land the pilgrim went. It was a summer evening, when again He stood before his castle, and he paused In the excess of happiness. The sun Had set behind the towers, whose square heights Divided the red west; and on its verge, Just where the crimson faded, was a star— The twilight star—pale, like dew turned to light. And on he went thro' his fair park, and past The lake and its white swans: at length he came To his sweet garden and its thousand flowers. The roses were in blossom, and the air Oppressed him with its fragrance. On a walk, As if just fallen from some beauty's hair, There lay a branch of myrtle— caught Its leaves, and kiss'd them!—Sure, 'twas 's! He stood now by a little alcove, made