Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1827.pdf/22

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this is all I have left now, Silence and solitude and tears; The memory of a broken vow, My blighted hopes, my wasted years.

There hangs your lute; the wandering wind Will hence its only master be; But never may its numbers find More wandering master than in thee.

My falcon it has slipped its hand— Afar your faithless gift has flown; The bird which fed from my own hand, Alas, its stay is like your own!

You swore to me yon starry ranks Should sooner leave their homes above; Yon river change its native banks, Than you forget your early love.

Each starry world its station keeps In night's blue empire as before; The same our native river sweeps— In vain—for I am loved no more.

I will go weep, till rose and blue Alike from cheek and eye depart, A faded flower,—and then adieu. My own false hopes and thy false heart. L. E. L.