Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1825.pdf/39

—The night was sultry, and I left the camp,
And leant beside the river, while my heart
Caught the sweet stillness of the hour, and dreamed
Of gentle things, of all that it had loved,
And, like the moonlight, softened what it touched,
Turning the harsh and bitter into sad
But tranquil thought. My memory was with one
Who loved me as a mother and a friend,
But whom I loved with wild idolatry,
Fiercer from its suppression. I recalled
The burning cheek, and the pale lip she wore
When I last looked on her, and the low tone,
Almost prophetic in its touchingness,
Of her farewell, till I dared think no more.
I started from my seat, and hurriedly
Gathering green leaves from branches o'er my head,
Flung them upon the waters, while I watched
How far they sailed. There came upon mine ear
A long deep sigh: I turned, and saw the face,
Which was the buried treasure of my heart;
A shadow or a Spirit fronted me,
Cold, pale and motionless, but still the brow
Had its own melancholy loveliness,
And the dark beauty of the eyes were bent
On me with all the pensive tenderness
They used to wear. I spoke—the shape was gone!
Weeks afterwards, I heard that she was dead,
And that my name had been upon her lips,
With kind anxiety and gentle wishes—
Even upon her death bed. - - - Iole.