The Poetical Works of Letitia Elizabeth Landon: The troubadour. Poetical sketches of modern pictures. Sketches from history (Google eBook)
Longman, Orme, Brown, Green and Longmans, 1839
What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
amid Amirald banner beauty beneath bloom bow'd bower breast breath breeze bright brow cheek cloud cold colour courser crimson dark eye death drawbridge dream Eginhard Elenore Elvira Eva's fair fairy father fear feel fill'd flower flung gazed gentle gold golden golden band green grief hair hall hand happiness heard heart heaven hope hour ladye leant LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON light lone look look'd love's lute maiden minstrel Moorish morning never night o'er pale pass'd paused pennons pine play'd plume poison'd pride proud purple rainbow Raymond rill rose round seem'd shade shadows shine shone sigh silver sleep smile soft solitude song spirit spread spring star steed stood stream summer sweet Sweet children tale tears thee thine thou thought trees TROUBADOUR turn'd Twas twilight violet warrior watch'd wave weep wild wind wings young youthful knight
Page 116 - As victims round their idols press, And asking nothing, but to show How far their zeal and faith can go. Pure as the snow the summer sun Never at noon hath look'd upon, — Deep as is the diamond wave, Hidden in the desart cave, — Changeless as the greenest leaves Of the wreath the cypress weaves, — Hopeless often when most fond, Without hope or fear beyond Its own pale fidelity, — And this woman's love can be!
Page 97 - The gay, the young, — alas that they Should ever bend beneath thy sway ! Look on the cheek the rose might own, The smile around like sunshine thrown ; The rose, the smile, alike are thine, To fade and darken at thy shrine. And what must love be in a heart All passion's fiery depths concealing, Which has in its minutest part More than another's whole of feeling.
Page 219 - And from that hour the ladye pined, For love was in her heart, And on her slumber there came dreams She could not bid depart. Her eye lost all its starry light, Her cheek grew wan and pale, Till she hid her faded loveliness Beneath the sacred veil. And she cut off her long dark hair, And bade the world farewell, And she now dwells a veiled nun In Saint Marie's cell.
Page 310 - Pass'd through the sacred wood, Which, like a mystery, Around the temple stood. The warrior's brow was worn With the weight of casque and plume, And sun-burnt was his cheek, And his eye and brow were gloom. The child was young and fair, But the forehead large and high, And the dark eyes' flashing light Seem'd to feel their destiny.
Page 298 - ... that ever Love should thus struggle with a vain endeavour Against itself: it is a common tale, And ever will be while earth soils prevail Over earth's happiness ; it tells she strove With silent, secret, unrequited love. It matters not its history ; love has wings Like lightning, swift and fatal, and it springs Like a wild flower where it is least expected, Existing whether cherish'd or rejected ; Living with only but to be content, Hopeless, for love is its own element, — Requiring nothing...
Page 244 - EVA'S fairy hand Met RAYMOND'S in the saraband, And it was EVA'S ear that heard Many a low and love-tuned word. — And life seem'd as a sunny stream, And hope awaked as from a dream ; But what has minstrel left to tell When love has not an obstacle...
Page 289 - Like their planet-lighted skies! Or those clear Italian lakes Where the silver cygnet makes Its soft nest of leaf and flower, A white lily for its bower ! Each of these a home would be, Fit for beauty and for me : I must seek their happier sphere While the Winter lords it here. LOVE NURSED BY SOLITUDE. BY WI THOMSON, EDINBURGH. AY, surely it is here that Love should come, And find (if he may find on earth) a home ; Here cast off all the sorrow and the shame That cling like shadows to his very name....
Page 293 - FAIRY. My dwelling is in the serpentine Of the rainbow's colour'd line, — See how its rose and amber clings To the many hues of my radiant wings ; Mine is the step that bids the earth Give to the iris flower its birth, And mine the golden cup to hide, Where the last faint hue of the rainbow died. Search the depths of an Indian mine, — Where are the colours to match with mine ? CHORUS.
Page 318 - Was growing on the grave. His lot was but a peasant's lot, His name a peasant's name, Not his the place of death that turns Into a place of fame. He fell as other thousands do, Trampled down where they fall, While on a single name is heap'd The glory gain'd by all. Yet even he whose common grave Lies in the open fields, Died not without a thought of all The joy that glory yields. • That small white church in his own land, The lime trees almost hide, Bears on the walls the names of those Who for...
Page 311 - Secm'd to feel their destiny. They enter'd in the temple, And stood before the shrine, It stream'd with the victim's blood, With incense and with wine. The ground rock'd beneath their feet, The thunder shook the dome, But the boy stood firm, and swore Eternal hate to Rome. There's a page in history O'er which tears of blood were wept, And that page is the record How that oath of hate was kept.