Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1829.pdf/12

 9 Literary Gazette, 14th February, 1829, Page 113

The present is the painter's—never words Could be so eloquent of wretchedness As are that bowed-down form, that hidden face, Which but to look on fills the eyes with tears: But in the past the poet has his part, For memory is the music of the lute. What is thy history, lady?—may I give Thy sorrow language?

room was hung with pictures, and the tints Of a rich sunset touched them as with life; The crimson varied o'er each cheek—the light Was tremulous within the azure eyes— The braided auburn hair was waved with gold And she who gazed looked not more actual life Than did her pictured likeness; only tears Bespoke the sadness of reality.

There were six paintings; all were very fair, And of resembling beauty—chestnut curls, A sunny autumn on the brow of youth, Eyes of that blue which lights the violet When rain-drops hang upon it, and each cheek Was as a rose-leaf crushed on ivory.