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Literary Gazette, 7th December, 1822, Pages 775–776 (cont.)
And let there be memorial none,
No name upon the cold white stone:
The only heart where I would be
Remembered, is now dead to me!
I would not even have him weep
O'er his Italian Love's last sleep.
Oh, tears are a most worthless token
When hearts they would have soothed are broken!
L. E. L.