Landon in The Literary Gazette 1825/Vision
Literary Gazette, 24th September, 1825, Page 620
ORIGINAL POETRY.
THE VISION.
I will, I must believe, that they, the dead,
The shadowy beings of a shadowy world,
Hold intercourse, a pitying intercourse,
With us who pant yet with our load of clay.
There was one whom I loved in early youth,
A boyish love perhaps,— it matters not,
’Twas true, and has out-lasted many a change
In others.—and that love has made me gaze
On many lovely faces with the look
We give to lovely pictures. 'Twas a time
When war and bloodshed were abroad, and men
Thought shame to sit in quiet by the hearth
Which soon might smoke with other fires than those
Round which the tale is told, the laugh is pass’d,
But for the guard and struggle of brave swords.
And firm steps falter'd, tears stood in bold eyes,
Which could have seen the musket flush, yet watched
The ball upon its fiery path, and stood
With sabres sweeping like a lightning storm
Over their heads, with war-steeds rushing on
Like thunder, and not moved;—but now, last looks
Were on the land which henceforth would but be
Their own in memory and hope;—they left
Old habits, grown affections by long use,
All the kind feelings and the ties of home;
But yet they went. And soon we were in Spain.
It was an autumn midnight, and the Moon
Was solitary in the sky, as all
The stars, her fair companions, shrank abashed
Before her zenith radiance; save the blaze
Of the red watch-fires, all was silvered o'er;
The chesnut's dark and shining leaves were moved
But languidly by the departing wind;
The far hills lay in shadow; but the tents,
The fair white tents, (how little they looked War)
Were like snow; and the current of the stream
By which they stood was like the face of heaven,
A deep, clear lighted, purple element.
—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.