Landon in The Literary Gazette 1827/Fragment

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For works with similar titles, see Fragment (Letitia Elizabeth Landon).
Landon in The Literary Gazette 1827 (1827)
by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Fragment - I know but little of her history
2342619Landon in The Literary Gazette 1827Fragment - I know but little of her history1827Letitia Elizabeth Landon

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The Literary Gazette, 6th October 1827, page 651


ORIGINAL POETRY.

FRAGMENT.

I know but little of her history,
For feelings are veiled records, which lie deep
Within the heart that beats with them. She was
Rich:—yon proud castle, with its ivied towers,
And this fair park, and yonder spreading woods,
Nature's old sanctuaries, were hers:—and young—
I think that twenty summers were the most
That she had numbered:—and, oh beautiful—
A creature like a memory for the heart;—
Hair black as is the thunder cloud—a lash
Yet blacker still, and soft large eyes, where light
And darkness met: the outline of her face
Was as a Grecian statue, but more sweet,
More feminine, from gentle smiles that seemed
Its nature:—and her name was as a chord
That wakened music—so much was she loved.
    The last of all her race: one after one
Had died of strange and terrible disease,
The red insanity—and she at length
Was struck like all her house; her radiant eye
Lost its humanity; the fine clear brow
Was darkened with a shadow; and her lip
Lost rose and smile together. She was sad,
Silent, and restless; and what time the moon
Filled her pale urn with golden light, vague fears
And unreal terrors haunted her scared nights,
And shadows seemed to compass her, and sounds.
To which she made wild answers: other time
Past away sad, but quiet; she would sit
For hours beside this fountain, while its flow,
Like music, calmed and entered in her soul.
This did not last; she visibly declined;
Flushed the rose hectic on her crimson cheek,
And her eyes filled with strange and passionate light,
As if they burnt themselves away. She died—
But peacefully: 'twas like an angry child,
Whose troubles end in sleep. She went to join
The pure fine spirit which I must believe
Had sought its heaven before.L. E. L.