Literary Gazette, 12th April 1823, Page 235-236
Ianthe — Guido — Manfred.
Ianthe. I can but weep your welcome,oh my own
Guido. Look upon yon pale lone star,—
Did I not say, when like a smile it came,
My sweet Ianthe, on the heart-wrung tears
Of the last time we met here, that its light
Was hope's fair message, and that we should meet
As we are meeting now?
lanthe. How I have watched
That silent star, and soothed me with the thought
That you were watching too! The day pass'd by,
Languid and listless; but when evening came,
It was as a new spirit rose within me,
Or I but lived when worshipping that star.
Guido. I cannot tell thee, love, how long I thought
My wearying absence in the strangers' land,
Without one thing to which thy love was linked
By old remembrance,—not one object gave
The image of thy beauty: here, each tree,
Each flower, recalls thee in associate sweetness.
This rose-tree is a favourite, the next
Was planted by your hand; your fairy feet
Have left their slight impress on yonder turf;
All round, the odour of your presence breathes;
Although the violet be gone, yet still
Its perfume lingers on the air,—and dear,
Soothing, these recollections are to love,