Literary Gazette, 24th May 1823, Page 332-333
STANZAS.
Farewell, farewell! then both are free,—
At least we both renounce our chain;
And love's most precious boon will be
Never to feel the like again.
There is no gift beneath the sky,
No fairy charm, no syren lure,
Would tempt me yet again to try
What love once taught me to endure.
Its burning hopes, its icy fears,
Its heartlessness, its sick despair;
The mingled pains of many years
Crowd into its one hour of care!
I blame you not,—you could not tell
That love to such a heart as mine
Was life or death, was Heaven or hell;
You could not judge my heart by thine.
Each pulse throbs to recall again
What once it was my lot to feel;
I have flung off my weary chain,
The scar it left I may not heal. L. E. L.
