Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1825.pdf/38

37 Literary Gazette, 24th September, 1825, Page 620

I will, I must believe, that they, the dead, The shadowy beings of a shadowy world, Hold intercourse, a pitying intercourse, With us who pant yet with our load of clay. There was one whom I loved in early youth, A boyish love perhaps,— it matters not, ’Twas true, and has out-lasted many a change In others.—and that love has made me gaze On many lovely faces with the look We give to lovely pictures. 'Twas a time When war and bloodshed were abroad, and men Thought shame to sit in quiet by the hearth Which soon might smoke with other fires than those Round which the tale is told, the laugh is pass’d, But for the guard and struggle of brave swords. And firm steps falter'd, tears stood in bold eyes, Which could have seen the musket flush, yet watched The ball upon its fiery path, and stood With sabres sweeping like a lightning storm Over their heads, with war-steeds rushing on Like thunder, and not moved;—but now, last looks Were on the land which henceforth would but be Their own in memory and hope;—they left Old habits, grown affections by long use, All the kind feelings and the ties of home; But yet they went. And soon we were in Spain. It was an autumn midnight, and the Moon Was solitary in the sky, as all The stars, her fair companions, shrank abashed Before her zenith radiance; save the blaze Of the red watch-fires, all was silvered o'er; The chesnut's dark and shining leaves were moved But languidly by the departing wind; The far hills lay in shadow; but the tents, The fair white tents, (how little they looked War) Were like snow; and the current of the stream By which they stood was like the face of heaven, A deep, clear lighted, purple element.