Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1825.pdf/3



I fly myself, as crowds could steal The arrow from my heart; But there ten thousand things recall Scenes in which thou hadst part. In crowds alone it was we met: How can they teach me to forget?

Wearied, I turn to solitude; But all the dreams are gone, Which once upon mу quiet hours Like fairy pageants shone: I feel too vividly, to be Longer amused by phantasy.

I look upon the poet's page, My tear-fill'd eye grows dim; I heard him once their numbers breathe, And now they breathe of him. Less present to mine eye than ear, His silver voice is all I hear.

Farewell! go join the careless world, As gay, as cold, as free; A passing dream, a moment's thought, Is all that I would be. I wish—but that brief glance allow'd, We fling upon an evening cloud.

I would not be beloved by thee; I know too well the fate That waits upon the heart, which must Its destiny create. A spirit, passionate as mine, Lights only to consume its shrine.

I was not born for happiness; From my most early hours My hopes have been too brilliant fires, My joys too fragile flow’rs. An evil star shines over me; I would not it were felt by thee!

Farewell! Yet wherefore say farewell? Mine are no parting words: I do not wish to wake one tone Upon thy memory's chords. Low, still and deep as mine, can be Content with its idolatry.L. E. L.