Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon in Friendship’s Offering, 1828/The Boon
THE BOON.
BY L. E. L.
Come tell me, love, if I had power
As I have will to waste on thee,—
Not waste—for never fairy's dower
Could seem too precious thine to be:
If I had power to give thee all
The earth, the ocean, or the air
E'er girdled in their mighty thrall,
What wouldst thou, Maiden, for thy share?
What wilt thou have? Shall time restore
The wonders of those fallen walls,
Palmyra's giant domes of yore?
Wilt dwell a queen in marble halls?
Must shining columns rear thy dome
To rival midnight's starry sky?
The quarry yields too mean a home,—
The golden mine shall thine supply.
Kings shall lay down their diadems
To glitter on thy meanest slave;
Thy lightest step shall be on gems,
Or pearls yet dewy from the wave.
Old Egypt's valleys of the rose
Shall feed thy lamps with fragrant oil;
Thy ivory caskets shall enclose
The sweet Manilla's fragrant spoil.
The East shall send its spice and gold,
The West, its labour and its skill,
To raise for thee a fairy hold,
To win thy smile, and work thy will.
There never shall the winter lower,
But summer soften into spring;
There shall no branch mourn faded flower,
There shall no bird forget to sing.
Thou dost love flowers—the glorious dyes
That paint the eastern world shall dwell
By those that catch our April skies,—
The violet thou lovest so well.
Down dropped the wreath she bound the while,
When ceased the voice on which she hung;
She gave him one sweet serious smile,
And spoke as if a lute were strung.
"Ah!" said the maid, "an easy task,
From the wide world to choose my part;
What of thine empire could I ask,
But what is now mine own—thy heart?"