It is a cruel proof of the want of generosity in human nature, that an affection too utterly self-sacrificing always meets with an evil return. - Letitia Elizabeth Landon

There is a flower, a magical flower,
On which love hath laid a fairy power ;
Gather it on the eve of St. John,
When the clock of the village is tolling one ;
Let no look be turned, no word be said,
And lay the rose-leaves under your head ;
Your sleep will be light, and pleasant your rest,
For your visions will be of the youth you love best.

Your Dante ! Homer of the Christian age,
The sacred poet of Faith's mysteries—
Hero of thought—whose gloomy genius plunged
In Styx, and pierced to hell ; and whose deep soul
Was like the abyss it fathomed.

He had a power; in his eye
There was a quenchless energy,
A spirit that could dare
The deadliest form that Death could take,
And dare it for the daring's sake.