Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1828.pdf/7

 4 Literary Gazette, 26th April, 1828, Page 267

gasping breath, I feel thee fail: My gallant boy, draw near— Brush off the dew that dims thy mail; For shame, it is a tear!

Here, take my sword; as yet the brand Has never miss'd its blow: God prosper it in thy young hand Against the Moslem foe!

Lift up my head—my parting gaze On yonder vale would be; Facing the red sun's fading rays, I speak my last to thee.

Look thou upon the plain below, With field and vineyard spread; And glory, like the morning's glow, Around yon city's head.

A thousand shrubs in blossom wreathe Round fountains bright and clear;— I almost fancy I can breathe Their gushing fragrance here.

Then mark the rock on which we lie, The eagle's rough domain; Its barren earth, its sullen sky,— Then look below again.

That valley is thy heritage! Could Eden be more fair?— Although an exile in my age, I spent my boyhood there.

Ours was the shame, and ours the loss; Carnage and conquest spread: The Crescent triumphed o'er the Cross,— Well may thy cheek grow red.