Page:Landon in The New Monthly 1826.pdf/11



I cannot, if I would, call back again
 * The early feelings of my love for thee,

I love thee ever, but it is in vain
 * To dream Love can be what it was to me.

Some of its flowers have fallen from the chain,
 * And showed that iron under them could be—

And it has entered in my soul: no more Can that soul revel in its dreams of yore.

, my heart can never be
 * Again in lighted hopes the same—

The love that lingers there for thee
 * Has more of ashes than of flame.

Still deem not but that I am yet
 * As much as ever all thine own;

Though now the seal of love be set
 * On a heart chilled almost to stone.

And can you marvel? only look
 * On all that heart has had to bear—

On all that it has yet to brook,
 * And wonder then at its despair.

Oh, Love is destiny, and mine
 * Has long been struggled with in vain—

Victim or votary, at thy shrine
 * There I am vow'd—there must remain.

My first—my last—my only love.
 * O blame me not for that I dwell

On all that I have had to prove
 * Of Love's despair, of Hope's farewell.

I think upon mine early dreams,
 * When Youth, Hope, Joy, together sprung;

The gushing forth of mountain-streams,
 * On which no shadow had been flung.

When Love seemed only meant to make
 * A sunshine on life's silver seas—

Alas, that we should ever wake,
 * And wake to weep o'er dreams like these!

I loved, and Love was like to me
 * The spirit of a faery tale,

When we have but to wish, and be
 * Whatever wild wish may prevail.

I deemed that Love had power to part
 * The chains and blossoms of life's thrall,

Make an Elysium of the heart,
 * And shed its influence o'er all.

I linked it with all lovely things,
 * Beautiful pictures, tones of song,

All those pure, high imaginings
 * That but in thought to earth belong.

And all that was unreal became
 * Reality when blent with thee—

It was but colouring that flame,
 * More than a lava flood to me.