# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1821/Six Songs of Love, Constancy, Romance, Inconstancy, Truth, and Marriage

Literary Gazette, 10th November, 1821, Page 716
ORIGINAL POETRY.
[Six Songs of Love, Constancy, Romance, Inconstancy, Truth, and Marriage.]
Oh! yet one smile, tho' dark may lower
Around thee clouds of woe and ill,
Let me yet feel that I have power,
Mid Fate's bleak storms, to soothe thee still.
Tho' sadness be upon thy brow,
Yet let it turn, dear love, to me,
I cannot bear that thou should'st know
Sorrow I do not share with thee.
True love's wreath is of mountain flowers,
They stand the storm and brave the blast,
And blossom on, so love like ours
Is sweetest when all else is past.
Too well I know what storms have frowned,
And now frown on life's troubled tide;
Still darker let them gather round,
They have no power on hearts so tried.
Then say not that you may not bear,
To shadow spirit light as mine ;
I shall not shrink, or fear to share
The darkest fate if it be thine!
__________
Oh! say not love was never made
For heart so light as mine;
Must love then seek the cypress shade,
Rear but a gloomy shrine.
Oh! say not, that for me more meet
The revelry of youth;
Or that my wild heart cannot beat
With deep devoted truth.
Tho' mirth may many changes ring,
'Tis but an outward show,
Even upon the fond dove's wing
Will varying colours glow.
Light smiles upon my lip may gleam
And sparkle o'er my brow,
'Tis but the glisten of the stream
That hides the gold below.
'Tis love that gilds the mirthful hour,
That lights the smile for me,
Those smiles would instant lose their power,
Did they not glance on thee!
Oh! come to my slumber
Sweet dreams of my love,
I have hung the charmed wreath
My soft pillow above.
The roses are linked
In a chain pure and white;
And the rose-leaves are wet
With the dew drops of night.
The moon was on high
As I gather'd each flower;
The dew that then falls
Has a magical power.
The Spirit of slumber
Those roses has blest;
And sweet are the visions
They'll bring to my rest.
Be their spell on my soul,
So they let me but see
His dark eyes flash in love
And his smile glance on me.
Let sleep bring the image
Of him far away;
'Tis worth all the tears
I shed for him by day.
I have hung the charmed wreath
My soft pillow above;
Then come to my slumber,
Sweet dreams of my love!
How vain to cast my love away
On bosom false as thine;
The floweret's bloom, that springs in May,
Would be a safer shrine
To build my fondest hopes upon,
Tho' fragile it may be.
That flower's smile is not sooner gone
Than love that trusts to thee.
Love asks a calm, a gentle home,
Or else its life is o'er;
If once you let its pinions roam,
Oh! then 'tis love no more.
The aspin's changefuI shade can be
No shelter for the dove;
And hearts as varying as that tree,
Are sure no place for love.
Hope linger'd long and anxiously,
O'er failing faith, but now
I give thee back each heartless sigh,
Give back each broken vow.
I'll trust the stay of tulip dyes,
The calm of yon wild sea,
The sunshine of the April skies,
But never more to thee!
Oh! would that love had power to raise
A little isle for us alone,
With fairy flowers, and sunny rays,
The blue sea wave its guardian zone.
No other step should ever press
This hidden Eden of the heart,
And we would share its loveliness,
From every other thing apart.
The rose and violet should weep,
Whene'er our leafy couch was laid,
The lark should wake our morning sleep,
The bulbul sing our serenade.
And we would watch the starry hours,
And call the moon to hear our vows,
And we would cull the sweetest flowers,
And twine fresh chaplets for our brows.
I thought thus of the flowers, the moon,
This fairy isle for you and me;
And then I thought how very soon
How very tired we should be.
MATRIMONIAL CREED.
He must be rich whom I could love,
His fortune clear must be,
Whether in land or in the funds,
'Tis all the same to me.
He must be old whom I could love,
Then he'll not plague me long;
In sooth 'twill he a pleasant sight, To see him borne along
To where the croaking ravens lurk,
And where the earth worms dwell:
A widow's hood will suit my face, And black becomes me well.
And he must make a settlement,
I'll have no man without;
And when he writes his testament,
He must not leave me out.
Oh! such a man as this would suit
Each wish I here express;
If he should say,—Will you have me?
I'll very soon say—Yes! L. E. L.