Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1835.pdf/31



Are you pleased, sweetest? Thus you bade me come, Garbed as a Spaniard. I shall pray thee, love, To come no more, so gorgeous in array— It is a barrier 'twixt thy heart and mine. I dare not touch you. Oh, the golden fleece!

Yes, sweet, look on it !

It was an emperor hung it round your neck. And with it many a noble privilege. The master of the order, and its knights Alone, may sit in judgment upon him Who wears its stately badge upon his breast. Ah, you might challenge the whole world to judge Your glorious life. How rich this velvet is. I know not where to fix my eager eyes.

Look till you tire of looking, dearest child. I love this golden fleece. Some day I'll ask Its ancient history of you. It is given— The high reward of honourable toil. You wear it as your proud rank's proudest sign. I liken it, my Egmont, to your love, Which wear I, as a badge, upon my heart— And yet—

What yet, my sweetest? Noble achievement won this noble pledge. But I have nothing done to gain your heart, How have I merited this happiness— I never laboured for your love?