Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1826.pdf/33

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scene it was, the tapers threw New gloss of beauty o'er the gather'd rose, Touch'd as if with the moonlight's soften'd hue; And on the ear there came the dying close Of a lute's love-song; 'twas a master drew From the charm'd chords such honey tones as those: Bright tears were in the bright eyes round; but none Wept, lest one falling tear might reave a tone.

Nobles and courtly dames stood round the Bard, Pouring those gentle flatteries in his ear Which ever are the Minstrel's best reward. Alas! and is the serpent's trail even here? Harsh all earth's destinies,—but his most hard Who may not trust the praise he loves to hear— Who may not hold his fame sure till, too late, The seal of death and truth is set by fate.

There stood he, half in pleasure, half in scorn, Holding such homage at its genuine worth: But from some young lips was a murmur borne, And tears in pure and starry eyes had birth, Speaking in eloquent silence; and were worn Far in his heart, mid things most dear of earth, He felt his song was felt—to poet's lays Sympathy is more precious far than praise.