Letitia Elizabeth Landon Quotes

Sweet Pauline, could I buy thee
With gold or its worth,
I would not deny thee
The wealth of the earth.
They talk of the pleasure
That riches bestow —
Without thee, my treasure,
What joy could I know ?

While we are laid on the battle plain,
Drenched to the skin by the midnight rain,
Pleasant dreams may thy slumber crown,
As thou sinkest to rest amid silk and down :
But shame beside thy pillow stand !
A German maid shall kiss thee not,
A German song rejoice thee not,
And German wine shall warm thee not !
He who has strength to wield a brand,
Let him draw it now for his father-land !

What is the light from yon deep wood flashing —
What the sound on the wild wind borne ?
What the dark ranks that are onwards dashing
To the voice of the pealing horn ?
Who are they that thundering go ? —
It is the Black Hunt of the bold Litzou !

I know a lovely little flower, a flower for which I pine —
I would go gather it, but bars my heavy hours confine;
Oh, grief, when free, how easily that little flower was mine !
. . .
Oh, were I sinking to the grave I often ask in vain,
And welcome Death stood by to loose the wasted captive's chain — Ah, name me the Forget-me-not, I'd wake to life again!

Sleep, little Paul, what, crying, hush ! the night is very dark ;
The wolves are near the rampart, the dogs begin to bark ;
The bell has rung for slumber, and the guardian angel weeps
When a little child beside the hearth so late a play-time keeps.

Yes, solitude amid her depths has many a hidden balm
Guarded for those who leave her not, to strengthen and to calm.

Dear friend, if it be your's to have in some deep vale a home,
Where you may dream of faith and fate, and all the great, to come.
If such a place of tranquil rest be to your future given,
Where every hour of solitude is consecrate to heaven,
Oh, leave it not ! let this vain life fret its few hours afar,
Where joy departs, and glory mocks the wide world's weary war
Let not its rude and angry tide with jarring torrent wake
The silence that the poplars love, of your own limpid lake.

Merciful God, thou dost not answer me !
I made my choice on earth, and now my heart
Has no asylum. Ye decide for me,
And such a destiny is best.

If the wind murmurs then they seem to hear
His voice ; and when night falls, the shadows round
Seem the dark foldings of his sweeping robe.
At noon, when life sees only the clear sky,
Feels only the bright sun, the fated one
Whom Death hath called, upon the distance marks
The heavy shade so soon to shroud
All nature from their eyes.

Religion has no limits, and no bounds;—
The vast, the infinite, and the eternal.,
Never from her may Genius separate.
Imagination from its earliest flight,
Past o'er the bounds of life : and the sublime
Is the reflection of divinity.

Take ye my solemn farewell ! O, my friends,
Already night is darkening on my eyes ;—
But is not Heaven most beautiful by night ?
Thousands of stars shine in the kindling sky,
Which is an azure desert during day.
Thus do the gathering of eternal shades
Reveal innumerable thoughts, half lost
In the full daylight of prosperity.

What we may do
To-morrow may perhaps decide our fate.
We may have said but yesterday some word
Which may not be recalled.

Genius doth catch the music of the spheres,
Which mortal ear was never meant to know.
Genius can penetrate the mysteries
Of feeling, all unknown to other hearts;
A power hath entered in the inmost soul,
Whose presence may not be contained.

Mysterious enthusiasm, Love !
The heart's supremest power;—which doth combine
Within itself religion, poetry,
And heroism.

O Earth ! all bathed with blood and tears, yet never
Hast thou ceased putting forth thy fruit and flowers;
And hast thou then no pity for mankind ?
Can thy maternal breast receive again
Their dust, and yet not throb ?