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Home , Letitia Elizabeth Landon, Mary Russell Mitford, The Grave (poem)

JE,itia {)izabeth ~ndon (1802-1838)

Letitia Elizabeth Landon was born on 14 August 1802 at No. 25 Hans Place, Chelsea, the eldest child of Catherine Jane Bishop and John Landon. At age six she became a day student at a school run by the future Countess St. Quentin, a poet. Caroline Lamb and both had studied there. The young Letitia Landon acquired from her schoolmistress a love of poetry and from her French instructor, Count St. Quentin, a flawless French accent. When Letitia was seven years old her family moved to Trevor Park, East Barnet, where Elizabeth Landon, a cousin, taught Letitia history, geography, grammar, and literature. Novels were forbidden, but Letitia read them clan­ destinely. She also read history and travel literature and had a tutor for French and music. Her favorite author was , and one of her favorite works was Homer's Odyssey. In later life she recalled, "I cannot remember the time when composition in some shape or other was not a habit. I used to invent long stories, which I was only too glad if I could get my mother to hear. These soon took a metrical form; and I used to walk about the grounds, and lie awake half the , reciting my verses aloud." 1 In 1814, when Letitia was thirteen, the hitherto affluent family suffered severe financial difficulties, bringing about a move to Lewis Place, Fulham, and then, after a year, to Old Brampton. Her days of formal schooling were over, but she continued her writing and voracious reading. One day ·her mother asked William Jerdan, a neighbor and editor of the Literary Gazette, to read some of Letitia's work. Jerdan, suspecting that the elder Landon was the author, offered comments and suggestions. Not long afterwards, he ac­ cepted one of Letitia's short pieces, "Rome," for the 11 March 1818 issue of the Gazette. She signed it "L." The following issue contained her poem "The

I . Quoted in , A Book ef Memories ef Great Men and Women ef the Age, from Personal Acquaintance, 2nd ed. (London, 1877), 269.

Michaelmas Daisy." Soon Landon's poetry began to appear often in the pages of the Gazette, and she began to think about using her writing to help support her family. By 1820 Landon was working on a long poem, "The Fate of Adelaide." Sarah Siddons, the distinguished actress and a friend of Landon's grand­ mother's, helped Landon in August 1821 to publish The Fate of Adelaide, a Swiss Romantic Tale; and Other Poems. Dedicated to Siddons, the book sold well, but its publisher, John Warren, failed, and Landon earned no money for her work. By this time, however, Jerdan had become her mentor. Be­ ginning in the summer of 1821, under the initials "L.E.L.," she published a series of "" that Jerdan had commissioned from her. Within months her poems became the rage. In 1831 Edward Bulwer-Lytton, writ­ ing for , recalled that at college "there was always in the reading-room of the Union a rush every Saturday afternoon for the 'Literary Gazette,' and an impatient anxiety to hasten at once to the corner of the sheet which contained the three magical letters 'L.E.L.' And all of us praised the verse, and all of us guessed at the author. We soon learned it was a female, and our admiration was doubled, and our conjectures tripled. Was she young? Was she pretty? And .. . was she rich?" 2 When Jerdan revealed that the author was a "young lady yet in her teens,'' scores of young men promptly fell in love with her. The Quaker poet Bernard Barton in February 1822 published an admiring apostrophe to L.E.L., closing with the lines,

I know not who, or what, thou art, Nor do I seek to know thee, While Thou, performing thus thy part, Such banquets canst bestow me. Then be, as long as thou shalt list, My viewless, nameless melodist.3 Landon's initials became her name. But her literary popularity had so far been of little value financially, so in July 1824, under the title The Improvisa­ trice; and Other Poems, she published with Hurst and Robinson a collection of her "Poetical Sketches" from the Literary Gazette. The manuscript had been rejected by Murray, Longmans, and Colburn, as well as by several other pub­ lishers, but the volume turned out to be a smashing success, going through six editions the first year and earning L.E.L. three hundred pounds. The Gentle­ man's Magazine declared, "We have seldom seen a voice more conspicuous for vivid imagination, felicity of diction, vigorous condensation oflanguage, and

2. Laman Blanchard, Life and Literary Remains of L.E.L., 2 vols. (Philadelphia, r84r), r :32. 3. London Literary Gazette, 9 February r822, 89. Letitia Elizabeth Landon passion-intensity of sentiment." And the Ladies' Monthly Museum observed, "The authoress displays a cultivated genius, which will enable her to attain a distinguished place among the British votaries of the Muses." 4 Landon's poetic reputation was now established. Landon's good business sense led her to capitalize on her new-found fame, and she quickly brought out another volume, entitled The Troubadour; Cata­ logue of Pictures, and Historical Sketches, in July 1825. It earned her six hundred pounds. In December 1826 she published a sequel entitled The Golden Vio­ let, with its Tales of Romance and Chivalry; and Other Poems, which contained "Erinna," a poem whose object she said was to "trace the progress of a mind highly-gifted, well-rewarded, but finding the fame it won a sting and a sor­ row, and finally sinking beneath the shadows of success." Though expensive, this volume also sold well. Critics complained that her poetry was monoto­ nous, so in her next book, published in October 1829, The Venetian Bracelet, The Lost Pleiad, a History of the Lyre, and Other Poems, she sought a remedy in greater social consciousness, a deeper psychological perspective, and a stronger sense of the dramatic. She portrayed love as linked to misery and death and life itself as a mockery. Increasingly, Landon came to know the lia­ bilities of being a woman with literary talent. She told a friend, "Did we not know this world to be but a place of trial-our bitter probation for another and for a better-how strange in its severity would seem the lot of genius in a woman. The keen feeling-the generous enthusiasm-the lofty aspiration­ and the delicate perception - are given but to make the possessor unfitted for her actual position." 5 After the death of her father, Landon's family depended upon her as its sole financial support. She continued to write regularly for the Literary Gazette, not only signed poetry but unsigned critical reviews. She had been contrib­ uting in a major way to most of the literary gift books and annuals, almost since their inception, but in 1831 she took over the editorship of Fisher's Drawing-Room Scrap-Book, a handsome annual published in quarto containing more than thirty poems to illustrate an equal number of fine, steel-plate en­ gravings. She continued as editor, contributing all of the verse not otherwise ascribed, until her departure from England in 1838. Her early biographer, Laman Blanchard, says that Landon wrote so quickly that "it would take her just as long to copy, as to compose" her poems.6

4. Gentleman's Magazine 94 (July 1824): 61-63; and Ladies' Monthly Museum, n.s., 20 (1824): 106. 5. Quoted in Blanchard, Life and Literary Remains, r :215. 6. Ibid., 40. Letitia Elizabeth Landon

In 1832, in addition to contributing to the annuals and to the New Monthly Magazine and editing the Drawing-Room Scrap-Book, she wrote all of the copy for The Easter Gift, a Religious Offering for 1833 and for Heath's Book ef Beauty for 1833. Her female literary friends came to include Emma Roberts, Maria Jane Jews bury, Mary Russell Mitford, Agnes Strickland, Jane Porter, and . Hall encouraged her to write a novel, and Romance and Reality was the result, begun in 1830 and published the following year. Landon said that "writing poetry is like writing one's native language, and writing prose, writing in a strange tongue.'' 7 Nevertheless, her novel Francesca Carrara (1834) brought praise from the critics and established her as a writer of romantic fiction. Landon's success also inspired gossip and rumor, fed by her habit of pub­ licly calling male friends such as William Jerdan and the Irish artist David Maclise by their first names and receiving them alone in private. She was said to be romantically involved with William Maginn, a journalist with a jeal­ ous wife and four children. Landon lamented, "I have long since discovered that I must be prepared for enmity I have never provoked, and unkindness I have little deserved. God knows that if, when I do go into society, I meet with more homage and attention than most, it is dearly bought. What is my life? One day of drudgery after another; ... envy, malice, and all unchari­ tableness, -these are the fruits of a successful literary career for a woman." 8 Feigning indifference, she refused publicly to respond to the accusations. But privately she yearned "for oblivion, and five hundred a year!" 9 In 1834 rumors circulated that Landon, then thirty-two, was engaged to marry John Forster, the twenty-three-year-old editor of the Daily News who was to become Dickens's biographer. But the stories that had circulated earlier concerning Maginn revived, and she told Forster, "That I am the object often of mali­ cious misrepresentation, or rather invention, is true; but it is not the public, it is not the general feeling. I can understand that success must bear the penalty of envy, but it is those who know nothing about me, or my habits, who are bitter against me .... As regards myself, I have no answer beyond contemptu­ ous silence, an appeal to all who know my past life, and a very bitter sense of innocence and of injury." 10 Yet she broke off the engagement, telling Forster, "I feel that to give up all idea of a near and dear connection, is as much my duty to myself as to you. Why should you be exposed to the annoyance-

7. Ibid., 87. 8. Quoted in Hall, A Book of Memories, 266. 9. Blanchard, Life and Literary Remains, I: 54. ro. Quoted in ibid., 107-8. Letitia Elizabeth Landon the mortification of having the name of the woman you honour with your regard, coupled with insolent insinuation?-you never would bear it." 11 In the summer of 1834 Landon visited Paris. When she returned to Lon­ don, she saw a new painting by Madise, Vow of the Peacock (1835), which inspired her to write a poem on the same topic. Saunders and Otley pub­ lished The Vow of the Peacock, and Other Poems in the autumn of 1835 with an engraving of one of Maclise's three portraits of L.E.L. as the frontispiece. This imperfect likeness was the first published portrait of L.E.L.-the first time her readers had seen her "face." In 1836 Henry Colburn brought out her Traits and Trials of Early Life, a collection of prose tales for children; Landon acknowledged that the last story in the book was a thinly veiled description of her own childhood. The following year Colburn published Ethel Churchill; or, The Two Brides, a love story, considered by many to be her strongest novel. Meanwhile, Landon continued to publish as prolifically as ever in periodicals and literary annuals. In addition to contributing to the Literary Gazette, the Court journal, and the New Monthly Magazine, she poetically illustrated Flowers of Loveliness for Rudolph Ackermann, the Book of Beauty for , and the Drawing-Room Scrap-Book for Fisher. Starting in 1836, she contributed annually to Schloss's Fairy Almanac. In October 1836, at the home of an acquaintance in Hampstead, Landon met , the governor of Cape Coast, Africa. Even as a child Landon had been interested in Africa, and the two had much to discuss. Rumors circulated about Maclean as well. It was said that he had married a native woman, who lived with him in . Maclean denied that he had ever been married and assured Landon that he had ended his relationship with a native woman. On 7 June 1838, with her brother offici­ ating, the two were married at St. Mary's Church on Bryanstone Square. The event was kept secret at the behest of the bridegroom, who wanted a private wedding. After a few days spent out of town, the couple returned to London, announced their marriage to surprised friends, and then left for Portsmouth to embark on the long sea voyage to Cape Coast, Africa. Landon had agreed to live in Africa for three years, after which time she would be free to re­ turn to England if she so wished. On 5 July 1838 she sailed from Portsmouth, planning to continue her literary career from afar. The voyage took nearly six weeks; oddly, when they landed on 16 August, her arrival was unexpected. She wrote to her brother and to others of how favorably impressed she was with Cape Coast and its castle, surrounded by sea on three sides. Her letters were cheerful and full of hope for the future.

II. Ibid., !12. 37° Letitia Elizabeth Landon

She reported, "It is like living in the 'Arabian Nights,' looking out upon palm and cocoa-nut trees .... If my literary success does but continue, in two or three years I shall have an independence from embarrassment it is long since I have known. It will enable me comfortably to provide for my mother." 12 She said she was happy and well and relieved to find the place better than she had supposed. She was working on a series of descriptive and critical essays on the female characters of Walter Scott; several of these essays had already been printed in the New Monthly Magazine, and Heath had agreed to publish a collection of them. But they were never finished. Only two months after her arrival in Africa, on Monday, 15 October 1838, between 8:00 and 9:00 A.M., a servant discovered Landon collapsed on the floor with an empty bottle of prussic acid in her hand. The efforts of a physi­ cian to revive her proved fruitless. A hastily convened coroner's jury ruled that she had died by poison. But the lack of an autopsy and the inadequacy of the inquest caused the verdict to be received with suspicion in England. Had she committed suicide? The tone and content of her letters to family and friends made that seem doubtful. Had she been murdered by the native woman who had borne Maclean's child and had formerly lived in the castle? The coroner's inquest recorded bruises on her cheek and hands. The first announcement in England of L.E.L.'s death appeared in the Watchman for 31December1838 in a letter from a missionary named Freeman, who insinu­ ated that the jury's verdict was not a conscientious one. The next day this letter was used in the papers to suggest that Landon had been poisoned or had committed suicide. George Maclean maintained that his wife must have accidentally taken an overdose of a medication she used to calm her nerves. His account was met with skepticism, and the English servant who had dis­ covered the poet was later found to be an untrustworthy witness. The puzzle of L.E.L.'s premature death was never solved, adding to the mystique of her posthumous reputation.

MAJOR WORKS: The Fate of Adelaide, a Swiss Romantic Tale; and Other Poems (London, 1821); The Improvisatrice; and Other Poems (London and Edinburgh, 1824); The Trouba­ dour; Catalogue of Pictures, and Historical Sketches (London and Edinburgh, 1825); The Golden Violet, with its Tales of Romance and Chivalry: and Other Poems (London, 1827); The Poetical Works (London, 1827); The Venetian Bracelet, The Lost Pleiad, a History of the Lyre, and Other Poems (London, 1829); Romance and Reality, 3 vols. (London, 1831); The Easter Gift, a Religious Offering (London, 1832 and 1833) ; Fisher's Drawing-Room Scrap-Book, 8 vols. (London, 1832-39); Corrine; or, Italy, by Madame de Stael ... with metrical versions of the odes by L. E. Landon, trans. Isabel Hill, Standard Novels,

I2. Ibid., 166. Letitia Elizabeth Landon 371 no. 24 (London, Edinburgh, Dublin, and Paris, 1833); Heath's Book of Beauty (London, 1833); Francesca Carrara, 3 vols. (London, 1834); The Miscellaneous Poetical Works (Lon­ don, 1835); The Vow of the Peacock, and Other Poems (London, 1835); Traits and Trials of Early Life (London, 1836); A Birthday Tribute {in verse) Addressed to ... the Princess Alexandrina Victoria, on attaining her Eighteenth Year (London, [1837]); Ethel Churchill; or, The Two Brides, 3 vols. (London, 1837); Duty and Inclination, a Novel, 3 vols. (London, 1838); Flowers of Loveliness. Twelve Groups of Female Figures Emblematic of Flowers: designed by Viirious Artists, with Poetical Illustrations by LEL (London, 1838);The Works of Letitia Elizabeth Landon, 2 vols. (Philadelphia, 1838); The Zenana and Minor Poems of L. E. L.; with a Memoir by Emma Roberts (London, 1839).

TEXTS USED: Texts of"The Oak" and "Home" from The Improvisatrice; and Other Poems. Text of "Hannibal's Oath" from The Troubadour; Catalogue of Pictures, and Historical Sketches. Texts of "The Altered River" and "Marius at the Ruins of Carthage" from the Keepsake for 1829 and 1833, respectively. Text of "Lines of Life" from The Venetian Bracelet, The Lost Pleiad, a History of the Lyre, and Other Poems. Texts of "Carrick-a-Rede, Ireland," "Fountain's Abbey," and "The Unknown Grave" from Fisher's Drawing-Room Scrap-Book for 1832, 1833, and 1837, respectively.

The Oak

. . . It is the last survivor of a race Strong in their forest-pride when I was young. I can remember, when for miles around, In place of those smooth meadows and com-fields, There stood ten thousand tall and stately trees, Such as had braved the winds of March, the bolt Sent by the summer lightning, and the snow Heaping for weeks their boughs. Even in the depth Of hot July the glades were cool; the grass, Yellow and parched elsewhere, grew long and fresh, IO Shading wild strawberries and violets, Or the lark's nest; and overhead, the dove Had her lone dwelling, paying for her home With melancholy songs; and scarce a beech Was there without a honeysuckle linked Around, with its red tendrils and pink flowers; Or girdled by a brier rose, whose buds 372 Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Yield fragrant harvest for the honey-bee. There dwelt the last red deer, those antler'd kings ... 20 But this is as ,-the plough has pass'd Where the stag bounded, and the day has looked On the green twilight of the forest-trees. This oak has no companion! ... (1823)

Home

I left my home;-'twas in a little vale, Sheltered from snow-storms by the stately pines; A small clear river wandered quietly, Its smooth waves only cut by the light barks Of fishers, and but darkened by the shade The willows flung, when to the southern wind They threw their long green tresses. On the slope Were five or six white cottages, whose roofs Reached not to the laburnum's height, whose boughs IO Shook over them bright showers of golden bloom. Sweet silence reigned around: - no other sound Came on the air, than when made The reed-pipe rudely musical, or notes From the wild birds, or children in their play Sending forth shouts or laughter. Strangers came Rarely or never near the lonely place .... I went into far countries. Years past by, But still that vale in silent beauty dwelt Within my memory. Home I came at last. 20 I stood upon a mountain height, and looked Into the vale below; and smoke arose, And heavy sounds; and through the thick dim air Shot blackened turrets, and brick walls, and roofs Of the red tile. I entered in the streets:

9 laburnum's] A small tree belonging to the family Leguminosae and bearing long pendulous racemes of bright yellow flowers followed by pods of poisonous seeds. Letitia Elizabeth Landon 373

There were ten thousand hurrying to and fro; And masted vessels stood upon the river, And barges sullied the once dew-clear stream. Where were the willows, where the cottages? I sought my home; I sought and found a city, Alas! for the green valley! 30

Hannibal's Oath•

And the night was dark and calm, There was not a breath of air, The leaves of the grove were still, As the presence of death was there; t

Only a moaning sound Came from the distant sea; It was as if, like life, It had no tranquillity.

A warrior and a child Pass'd through the sacred wood, IO Which, like a mystery, Around the temple stood.

The warrior's brow was worn With the weight of casque and plume, And sun-burnt was his cheek, And his eye and brow were gloom.

The child was young and fair, But the forehead large and high, And the dark eyes' flashing light Seem'd to feel their destiny. 20

They enter'd in the temple, And stood before the shrine, 374 Letitia Elizabeth Landon

It stream'd with the victim's blood, With incense and with wine.

The ground rock'd beneath their feet, The thunder shook the dome, But the boy stood firm, and swore Eternal hate to Rome.

There's a page in history 30 O'er which tears of blood were wept, And that page is the record How that oath of hate was kept. (1825)

•Hannibal (247-c. r83-r8r B.c.) was a Carthaginian military leader who fought against the Roman republic. His father, the great Carthaginian general Hamilcar Barca, took him to Spain at an early age and made him swear eternal hostility to Rome. Hannibal became commander in chief of the Carthaginian army at age twenty­ six. His greatest military achievement was a surprise attack on the Romans during the Second Punic War, made possible by the ingenious method of having his troops cross the Alps on elephants. In the end he was defeated. t In the first edition this line ended with the words "were there."

The Altered River

Thou lovely river, thou art now As fair as fair can be, Pale flowers wreathe upon thy brow, The rose bends over thee. Only the morning sun hath leave To turn thy waves to light, Cool shade the willow branches weave When noon becomes too bright. The lilies are the only boats IO Upon thy diamond plain, Letitia Elizabeth Landon 375 ------The swan alone in silence floats Around thy charm'd domain. The moss bank's fresh embroiderie, With fairie favours starr'd, Seems made the summer haunt to be Of melancholy bard. Fair as thou art, thou wilt be food For many a thought of pain; For who can gaze upon thy flood, Nor wish it to remain 20 The same pure and unsullied thing Where heaven's face is as clear Mirror'd in thy blue wandering As heaven's face can be here. Flowers fling their sweet bonds on thy breast, The willows woo thy stay, In vain, - thy waters may not rest, Their course must be away. In yon wide world, what wilt thou find? What all find-toil and care: 30 Your flowers you have left behind Far other weight to bear. The heavy bridge confines your stream, Through which the barges toil, Smoke has shut out the sun's glad beam, Thy waves have caught the soil. On-on-though weariness it be, By shoal and barrier cross'd, Till thou hast reach'd the mighty sea, And there art wholly lost. Bend thou, young poet, o'er the stream - Such fate will be thine own; Thy lute's hope is a morning dream, And when have dreams not flown? (1829) Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Lines of Life

Orphan in my first years, I early learnt To make my heart suffice itself, and seek Support and sympathy in its own depths.

Well, read my cheek, and watch my eye, - Too strictly school'd are they, One secret of my soul to show, One hidden thought betray.

I never knew the time my heart Look'd freely from my brow; It once was check'd by timidness, 'Tis taught by caution now.

I live among the cold, the false, IO And I must seem like them; And such I am, for I am false As those I most condemn.

I teach my lip its sweetest smile, My tongue its softest tone; I borrow others' likeness, till Almost I lose my own.

I pass through flattery's gilded sieve, Whatever I would say; In social life, all, like the blind, 20 Must learn to feel their way.

I check my thoughts like curbed steeds That struggle with the rein; I bid my feelings sleep, like wrecks In the unfathorn'd main.

I hear them speak of love, the deep, The true, and mock the name; Mock at all high and early truth, And I too do the same. Letitia Elizabeth Landon 377

I hear them tell some touching tale, I swallow down the tear; 30 I hear them name some generous deed, And I have learnt to sneer.

I hear the spiritual, the kind, The pure, but named in mirth; Till all of good, ay, even hope, Seems exiled from our earth.

And one fear, withering ridicule, Is all that I can dread; A sword hung by a single hair For ever o'er the head. 40

We bow to a most servile faith, In a most servile fear; While none among us dares to say What none will choose to hear.

And if we dream of loftier thoughts, In weakness they are gone; And indolence and vanity Rivet our fetters on.

Surely I was not born for this! I feel a loftier mood 50 Of generous impulse, high resolve, Steal o'er my solitude!

I gazed upon the thousand stars That fill the midnight sky; And wish, so passionately wish, A light like theirs on high.

I have such eagerness of hope To benefit my kind; And feel as if immortal power Were given to my mind. 60 Letitia Elizabeth Landon

I think on that eternal fame, The sun of earthly gloom, Which makes the gloriousness of death, The future of the tomb-

That earthly future, the faint sign Of a more heavenly one; -A step, a word, a voice, a look, - Alas! my dream 1s done.

And earth, and earth's debasing stain, Again is on my soul; And I am but a nameless part Of a most worthless whole.

Why write I this? because my heart Towards the future springs, That future where it loves to soar On more than eagle wings.

The present, it is but a speck In that eternal time, In which my lost hopes find a home, So My spirit knows its clime.

O! not myself,-for what am I?­ The worthless and the weak, Whose every thought of self should raise A blush to burn my cheek.

But song has touch'd my lips with fire, And made my heart a shrine; For what, although alloy'd, debased, Is in itself divine.

I am myself but a vile link 90 Amid life's weary chain; But I have spoken hallow'd words, 0 do not say in vain! Letitia Elizabeth Landon 379

My first, my last, my only wish, Say will my charmed chords Wake to the morning light of fame, And breathe again my words?

Will the young maiden, when her tears Alone in moonlight shine- Tears for the absent and the loved­ Murmur some song of mine? IOO

Will the pale youth by his dim lamp, Himself a dying flame, From many an antique scroll beside, Choose that which bears my name?

Let music make less terrible The silence of the dead; I care not, so my spirit last Long after life has fled.

Carrick-a-Rede, Ireland*

He dwelt amid the gloomy rocks, A solitary man; Around his home on every side, The deep salt waters ran. The distant ships sailed far away, And o'er the moaning wave The sea-birds swept, with pale white wings, As phantoms haunt the grave: 'Twas dreary on an autumn night, To hear the tempest sweep, IO When gallant ships were perishing Alone amid the deep. Letitia Elizabeth Landon

He was a stranger to that shore, A stranger he remained, For to his heart, or hearth, or board, None ever welcome gained. Great must have been the misery Of guilt upon his mind, That thus could sever all the ties 20 Between him and his kind. His step was slow, his words were few, His brow was worn and wan; He dwelt among those gloomy rocks, A solitary man. (1832)

•The romantic anecdote, to which [these] lines have reference, is a true one. A manuscript journal of a Tour through the Western Islands of Scotland, and along the Northern Coast of Ireland, in 1746, contains the following passage: "Carrick-a-Reid is a great rock, cut off from the shore by a chasm of fearful depth, through which the sea, when vexed by angry winds, boileth with great fury. It is resorted to at this season of the year by fishers, for the taking of salmon, who sling themselves across the perilous gulf by means of a stout rope, or withe, as the name Carrick-a-Reid imports. I was told, that, all through the inclemency of last winter, there dwelled here a solitary stranger, of noble mien, in an unseemly hut, made by his own hands. The people, in speaking of the stranger, called him, from his aspect, "The Man of Sorrow"; and 'tis not unlikely, poor gentleman, he was one of the rebels who fled out of Scotland." In the 2nd volume of "Wakefield's Ireland," a particular account of Carrick-a-Rede, its fishery, and "very extraordinary flying bridge," may be found. Landon. Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Fountain's Abbey*

Never more, when the day is o'er, Will the lonely vespers sound; No bells are ringing-no monks are singing, When the moonlight falls around.

A few pale flowers, which in other hours May have cheered the dreary mood; When the votary turned to the world he had spurned, And repined at the solitude.

Still do they blow 'mid the ruins below, For fallen are fane and shrine, IO And the moss has grown o'er the sculptured stone Of an altar no more divine.

Still on the walls, where the sunshine falls, The ancient fruit-tree grows; And o'er tablet and tomb, extends the bloom Of many a wilding rose.

Fair though they be, yet they seemed to me To mock the wreck below; For mighty the tower, where the fragile flower May now as in triumph blow. 20

Oh, foolish the thought, that my fancy brought; More true and more wise to say, That still thus doth , some gentle thing, With its beauty to cheer decay.

*"Many a garden flower grows wild": amid the ruins of the old monasteries, many a weary hour may their cultivation once have beguiled. At Fountain's Abbey there is still preserved a species of pear peculiar to the place. Landon. Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Marius at the Ruins of Carthage*

He turn'd him from the setting sun, Now sinking in the bay: - He knew that so his course was run, But with no coming day; From gloomy seas and stormy skies He had no other morn to rise.

He sat, the column at his feet, The temple low beside; A few wild flowers blossom'd sweet IO Above the column's pride; And many a wave of drifted sand The arch, the once triumphal, spann'd.

The place of pleasant festival, The calm and quiet home, The senate, with its pillar'd hall, The palace with its dome, - All things in which men boast and trust Lay prone in the unconscious dust.

Yet this the city which once stood 20 A queen beside the sea, Who said she ruled the ocean flood Wherever there might be Path for bold oar or daring prow: - Where are her thousand galleys now?

A bird rose up-it was the owl, Abroad at close of day; The wind it brought a sullen howl, The wolf is on his way; The ivy o'er yon turret clings, 30 And there the wild bee toils and sings.

And yet these once were battlements, With watchers proud and bold, Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Who slept in war-time under tents Of purple and of gold! This is the city with whose power Rome battled for earth's sovereign hour!

That hour it now was Rome's, and he Who sat desponding there, Had he not aim'd the soul to be Of all that she could dare; The will that led that mighty state, The greatest, too-where all were great?.

An exile and a fugitive, The Roman leant alone; All round him might those lessons give The past has ever shown, With which is all experience fraught, Still teaching those who are not taught.

He saw and felt wealth, glory, mind Are given but for a day; 50 No star but hath in time declined, No power but pass'd away! He witness'd how all things were vain, And then went forth to war again! (1833)

*Gaius Marius (c. 157-86 B.c.) was a Roman general who became a successful poh­ tician on the strength of the votes of army veterans. In the year before his death, following an attempt to seize control of the Asian command, Marius was exiled to Africa; he returned the next year, captured Rome, had himself elected consul for the seventh time, and then died. Letitia Elizabeth Landon

The Unknown Grave

There is a little lonely grave Which no one comes to see, The foxglove and red orchis wave Their welcome to the bee. There never falls the morning sun, It lies beneath the wall, But there when weary day is done The lights of sunset fall, Flushing the warm and crimson air IO As life and hope were present there.

There sleepeth one who left his heart Behind him in his song; Breathing of that diviner part Which must to heaven belong. The language of those spirit chords, But to the poet known, Youth, love, and hope yet use his words, They seem to be his own. And yet he has not left a name, 20 The poet died without his fame.

How many are the lovely lays That haunt our English tongue, Defrauded of their poet's praise Forgotten he who sung. Tradition only vaguely keeps Sweet fancies round his tomb; Its tears are what the wild flower weeps, Its record is that bloom; Ah, surely nature keeps with her 30 The memory of her worshipper.

One of her loveliest mysteries Such spirit blends at last With all the fairy fantasies Which o'er some scenes are cast. Letitia Elizabeth Landon

A softer beauty fills the grove, A light is in the grass, A deeper sense of truth and love Comes o'er us as we pass; While lingers in the heart one line, The nameless poet hath a shrine. 40 (1837)