Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1827.pdf/4

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"Un jour je m’étais amusé à effeuiller une branche de saule sur un ruisseau, et à attacher une idée à chaque feuille, que le courant entrainait."— Chateaubriand.

hour was fair, but Autumn's dying Was upon leaf, and flower, and tree; The sunshine with the season flying, As I could feel my life from me.

Beside an aged trunk reclining, All other darker days forgot, The leaves fell, and the waves went pining,— Lost in my dreams, I marked them not.

From the old willow o'er me bending, My hand, unconscious, stripp'd a bough, Then watch'd I the light leaves descending, Borne on by the blue current's flow.

Idlesse it hath the vaguest dreaming,— From their course sought I to divine; And mid those o'er the waters streaming Chose I one for my fortune's sign.

Skiff-like it flow'd with peace before it, Till choice of mine upon it fell,— Then rudely prest the wild waves o'er it— It sank: I chose mine emblem well!

Another leaf! to some hope clinging, A miracle might guard its way; ‘Twas my lute's fate—the wind past, flinging My oracle, my hope away.

To the wave where my fortunes leave me    My genius passes with the gale: Shall I trust to it, to bereave me    Of dearer vow?—my spirits fail.

E’en while at its own weakness blushing, My sick heart sinks beneath its fear; That heart is weak, and dark clouds rushing, Are all its omens bid appear.

Down from my hand the green bough falling, I leave the willow and the stream; Yet still their omens drear recalling, Those prophet leaves haunt midnight's dream. L. E. L.