BUT THERE ARE SOME WHOSE LOVE IS HIGH,

THE COVENANTERS.

249

L. E. Landon.

[THIS lady is perhaps best known as L. E. L., the initials under which she published her earliest poems in The Literary Gazette. Her larger works are "The Improvisatrice," "The Golden Violet," and "The Troubadour," and some ably-written novels, of which "Ethel Churchill" and Romance and Reality" are the best. She was born at Hans Place, Chelsea, in 1802; and in 1838 married Mr. George Maclean, Governor of Cape Coast Castle, She landed at Cape Coast in August, and on the 16th of October was found lying dead in her room, with a bottle in her hand containing prussic acid. It is supposed she took an overdose to relieve the pains of a spasmodic complaint from which she suffered. Her poetry is characterized by feeling, freedom, and vigour, but pervaded by a tone of melancholy which sometimes grows unwholesome,]

"O'ER SOME LOVE'S SHADOW MAY BUT PASS AS PASSES THE BREATH-STAIN O'ER GLASS,

M

THE COVENANTERS.

INE home is but a blackened heap
In the midst of a lonesome wild,
And the owl and the bat may their night.
watch keep

Where human faces smiled.

I rocked the cradle of seven fair sons,
And I worked for their infancy;

But, when like a child in mine own old age,
There are none to work for me.

Never! I will not know another home.
Ten summers have passed on, with their blue skies,
Green leaves, and singing-birds, and sun-kissed fruit,
Since here I first took up my last abode ;
And here my bones shall rest. You say it is
A home for beasts, and not for human kind,

ENTIRE AND SOLE IDOLATRY."-L. E. LANDON.

AND PLEASURES, CARES, AND PRIDE COMBINED, FILL UP THE BLANK."-L. E. LANDON.

"AND SOME THERE ARE WHO LEAVE THE PATH IN AGONY AND FIERCE DISDAIN,-L. E. LANDON)

250

"" WHERE IS THE SORROW BUT APPEARS-(L. E. LANDON)

L. E. LANDON.

This bleak shed and bare rock; and that the vale
Below is beautiful. I know the time

When it looked very beautiful to me!

Do you see that bare spot, where one old oak

Stands black and leafless, as if scorched by fire,
While round it the ground seems as if a curse
Were laid upon the soil? Once by that tree,
Then covered with its leaves and acorn crop,
A little cottage stood: 'twas very small,
But had an air of health and peace.

The roof

Was every morning vocal with the song
Of the rejoicing swallows, whose warm nest
Was built in safety underneath the thatch;
A honeysuckle on the sunny side

Hung round its lattices its fragrant trumpets.
Around was a small garden: fruit and herbs
Were there in comely plenty; and some flowers,
Heath from the mountains, and the wilding bush
Gemmed with red roses, and white apple-blossoms,
Were food for the two hives, whence all day long
There came a music like the pleasant sound
Of lulling waters. And at even-tide
It was a goodly sight to see around

Bright eyes, and faces lighted up with health,
And youth, and happiness: these were my children,
That cottage was mine home......

There came a shadow o'er the land, and men
Were hunted by their fellow-men like beasts,
And the sweet feelings of humanity
Were utterly forgotten; the white head,
Darkened with blood and dust, was often laid
Upon the murdered infant, for the sword
Of pride and cruelty was sent to slay

IN LOVE'S LONG CATALOGUE OF TEARS. -L. E. LANDON.

BUT BEAR UPON EACH CANKERED BREAST THE SCAR THAT NEVER HEALS AGAIN."-L. E. LANDON.

"THE MANY MEANNESSES, THE PETTY CARES, THE LONG AVOIDANCE OF A THOUSAND SNARES,-(LANDON)

[" And white apple-blossoms, were food for the two hives."

Those who in age would not forego the faith
They had grown up in. I was one of these:
How could I close the Bible I had read
Beside my dying mother, which had given
To me and mine such comfort? But the hand
Of the oppressor smote us. There were shrieks,

HOWEVER PURE THE BREAST, TO LAY IT BARE?"-LANDON.

DECEIT IS THIS WORLD'S PASSPORT: WHO WOULD DARE,

THE LIPS THAT MUST BE CHAINED, THE EYE SO TAUGHT TO IMAGE ALL BUT ITS OWN THOUGHT."-LANDON.

252

AND WE RISE UP LESS SELFISH, HAVING KNOWN-(L. E. LANDON)

L. E. LANDON.

And naked swords, and faces dark as guilt,
A rush of feet, a bursting forth of flame,

Curses, and crashing boards, and infant words
Praying for mercy, and then childish screams
Of fear and pain. There were these the last night
The white walls of my cottage stood; they bound
And flung me down beside the oak, to watch
How the red fire gathered, like that of hell.

"OH, GLORIOUS IS THE GIFTED POET'S LOT: TO BE COMPANION OF THE HEART'S LEAST EARTHLY HOUR;

THE VOICE OF LOVE AND SADNESS, CALLING FORTH TEARS FROM THEIR SILENT FOUNTAIN."-L. E. LANDON.

["They bound and flung me down beside the oak."]
There sprang one to the lattice, and leant forth,
Gasping for the fresh air,-my own fair girl!
My only one! The vision haunts me still :
The white arms raised to heaven, and the long hair,
Bright as the light beside it, stiff on the head
Upright, from terror. In th' accursed glare
We knew each other; and I heard a cry
Half tenderness, half agony, -a crash,-
The roof fell in-I saw my child no more!

PART IN DEEP GRIEF, YET THAT GRIEF NOT OUR OWN."-LANDON.

"LIKE WOMAN'S SOOTHING INFLUENCE ON MAN, ENTHUSIASM IS UPON THE MIND;-(L. E. LANDON)

"THE PAINTER'S GLORIOUS ART, WHICH FORMS (LANDON)

A cloud closed round me, a deep thunder-cloud,
Half darkness and half fire. At length sense came,
With a rememb'ring, like that which a dream

Leaves, of vague horrors; but the heavy chain,
The loathsome straw which was mine only bed,
The sickly light through the dim bars, the damp,
The silence, were realities; and then

I lay on the cold stones, and wept aloud,
And prayed the fever to return again,
And bring death with it. Yet did I escape. -
Again I drank the fresh blue air of heaven,
And felt the sunshine laugh upon my brow;

I thought then I would seek my desolate home,
And die where it had been. I reached the place :
The ground was bare and scorched, and in the midst
Was a black heap of ashes. Franticly

I groped amid them, ever and anon

Meeting some human fragment, skulls and bones
Shapeless and cinders, till I drew a curl,
A long and beautiful curl of sunny hair,
Stainless and golden, as but just then severed,
A love-gift from the head :-I knew the hair-
It was my daughter's! There I stood, and howled

There came a gentle step ;-even on that heap
Of blood and ashes did I kneel, and pour
To the great God my gratitude! That curl
Was wet with tears of happiness; that step,
That voice, were sweet familiar ones,-one child,
My eldest son, was sent me from the grave!
That night he had escaped !......

We left the desolate valley, and we went
Together to the mountains and the woods,

A WORLD MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN THIS."-L. E. LANDON.

SOFTENING AND BEAUTIFYING THAT WHICH IS TOO HARSH AND SULLEN IN ITSELF."-L. E. LANDON.