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# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Amulet, 1836/The Evening Star

* THE EVENING STAR
* Painted by J. BoadenEngraved by C. Marr
THE EVENING STAR.
BY L. E. L.
I come from the caves of the silent sea, Where the red and white coral wreathe bowers for me. I leave my blush on the shells beside, When I rise from the depths of the haunted tide.
I come when the sun has forsaken the sky, And the last warm colours of daylight die; And the west is pale and pure as the pearl That gems the white brow of some eastern girl.
The birds are hushed on the drooping bough, Save the nightingale lone which is murmuring now; The bee has gone home to his honey cell, And the lark has gone down in the grass to dwell.
I come when the dew is bright on the rose, When the leaves of the languid violet close, When notes of the lute are heard on the wind, And their music for one, only one, is designed.
The hours of the day are of trouble and toil, Then fight they the battle, then part they the spoil; The hours of the midnight, O pale sleep, are thine, But one hour, the fairest, the dearest is mine.
Mine is the hour, the stolen, the sweet, When the young lover listens his maiden's light feet. There are planets in heaven as bright and as far, But which has the spell of the sweet evening star?
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Amulet, 1836/The Mother’s Warning

* THE MOTHER'S WARNING
* Painted by F. StoneEngraved by W. Greatbach
THE MOTHER'S WARNING.
BY L. E. L.
Pray thee, dear one, heed him not, Love has an unquiet lot; Why for words of fear and fate, Shouldst thou change thy sweet estate? Linger yet upon the hour Of the green leaf and the flower. Art thou happy? For thy sake Do the birds their music make— Birds with golden plumes that bring Sunshine from a distant spring. For thine eyes the roses grow Red as sunset, white as snow. And the bees are gathering gold Ere the winter hours come cold. Flowers are colouring the wild wood, Art thou weary of thy childhood? Break not its enchanted reign, Such life never knows again.
Wilt thou love? Oh, listen all I can tell thee of such thrall. Though my heart be changed and chill, Yet that heart remembers still, All the sorrow that it proved, All I suffered while I loved.
'Tis to waste the feverish day, In impatient hopes away. Watching with a weary eye For a step that comes not nigh; 'Tis to pass the night in weeping, Vigils the heart's penance keeping; Shedding tears, that while they fall, Are ashamed to weep at all.
There are darker hours in store, Loving—yet beloved no more. When the lover's heart is changed, And the lover's eye has ranged. Sit thou down as by a grave, Weep o'er all thy young faith gave; Weep and weep in vain, for never Could endurance or endeavour, Love in every action shown, Keep the false heart for your own. It is won at little cost, But still easier is it lost.
I shall see that sunny hair Braided with less anxious care;
I shall see that cheek grow pale, As the lily in the vale. I shall hear those steps whose flight Is so musical and light, Dragging onwards languid slow, Caring nothing where they go.
Woe! for all I see will come! Woe for our deserted home! If to love thy choice shall be, Farewell, my sweet child, to thee!
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Bijou, 1828/City of the Dead

The City of the Dead.
By L. E. L.
'Twas dark with cypresses and yews which cast Drear shadows on the fairer trees and flowers— Affections latest signs.***  Dark portal of another world—the grave— I do not fear thy shadow; and methinks, If I may make my own heart oracle,— The many long to enter thee, for thou Alone canst reunite the loved and lost With those who pine for them. I fear thee not; I only fear mine own unworthiness, Lest it prove barrier to my hope, and make Another parting in another world.
1. Laurel! oh fling thy green boughs on air, There is dew on thy branches, what doth it do there? Thou art worn on the conqueror's shield, When his country receives him from glory's red field; Thou that art wreathed round the lyre of the bard, When the song of its sweetness has won its reward. Earth's changeless and sacred—thou proud laurel tree! The ears of the midnight, why hang they on thee?
2. Rose of the morning, the blushing and bright, Thou whose whole life is one breath of delight; Beloved of the maiden, the chosen to bind Her dark tresses' wealth from the wild summer wind. Fair tablet, still vowed to the thoughts of the lover, Whose rich leaves with sweet secrets are written all over; Fragrant as blooming—thou lovely rose tree! The tears of the midnight, why hang they on thee?
3. Dark cypress I see thee—thou art my reply, Why the tears of the night on thy comrade trees lie; That laurel it wreathed the red brow of the brave, Yet thy shadow lies black on the warrior's grave. That rose was less bright than the lip which it prest, Yet thy sad branches sweep o'er the maiden's last rest: The brave and the lovely alike they are sleeping, I marvel no more rose and laurel are weeping.
4 Yet sunbeam of heaven thou fall'st on the tomb— Why pausest thou by such dwelling of doom? Before thee the grove and the garden are spread, Why lingerest thou round the place of the dead?
Thou art from another, a lovelier sphere, Unknown to the sorrows that darken us here. Thou art as a herald of hope from above:— Weep mourner no more o'er thy grief and thy love; Still thy heart in its beating, be glad of such rest, Though it call from thy bosom its dearest and best. Weep no more that affection thus loosens its tie, Weep no more that the loved and the loving must die Weep no more o'er the cold dust that lies at your feet, But gaze on yon starry world—there ye shall meet.
5. O heart of mine! is there not One dwelling there To whom thy love clings in its hope and its prayer? For whose sake thou numberest each hour of the day, As a link in the fetters that keep me away; When I think of the glad and the beautiful home, Which oft in my dreams to my spirit hath come; That when our last sleep on my eyelids hath prest, That I may be with thee at home and at rest: When wanderer no longer on life's weary shore, I may kneel at thy feet, and part from thee no more; While death holds such hope forth to soothe and to save, Oh sunbeam of heaven thou mayest well light the grave.
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume II/Age

CHAPTER XXXVI.
A REQUEST REFUSED.
Age is a dreary thing when left alone:
It needs the sunshine brought by fresher years;
It lives its youth again while seeing youth,
And childhood brings its childhood back again.
 But for the lonely and the aged man
Left to the silent hearth, the vacant home
Where no sweet voices sound, no light steps come
Disturbing memory from its heaviness—
Wo for such lot! 'tis life's most desolate!
Age needeth love and youth to cheer the path—
The short dark pathway leading to the tomb.
Blanchard’s title is:
AGE
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume II/Changes in London

CHAPTER XXIX.
CHANGES IN LONDON.
The presence of perpetual change
 Is ever on the earth;
To-day is only as the soil
 That gives to-morrow birth.
Where stood the tower, there grows the weed;
 Where stood the weed, the tower:
No present hour its likeness leaves
 To any future hour.
Of each imperial city built
 Far on the Eastern plains,
A desert waste of tomb and sand
 Is all that now remains.
Our own fair city filled with life,
 Has yet a future day,
When power, and might, and majesty,
 Will yet have passed away.
In Blanchard
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume II/Death in the Flower

CHAPTER XLI.
THE LABORATORY.
'Tis a fair tree, the almond-tree: there Spring
Shews the first promise of her rosy wreath;
Or ere the green leaves venture from the bud,
Those fragile blossoms light the winter bough
With delicate colours, heralding the rose,
Whose own Aurora they might seem to be.
What lurks beneath their faint and lovely red?
What the dark spirit in those fairy flowers?
'Tis death!
Blanchard’s title is:
DEATH IN THE FLOWER
In The New York Mirror (10th March 1838), as The Almond-Tree
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume II/Change

CHAPTER XXV.
MEETING OF OLD FRIENDS.
How much of change lies in a little space!
How soon the spirits leave their youth behind!
The early green forsakes the bough; the flowers,
Nature's more fairy-like and fragile ones,
Droop on the way-side, and the later leaves
Have artifice and culture—so the heart:
How soon its soft spring hours take darker hues!
And hopes, that were like rainbows, melt in shade;
While the fair future, ah! how fair it seemed!
Grows dark and actual.
Blanchard’s title is:
CHANGE
In The New Yorker (23rd March 1838), as Mutability
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume II

This work is available under the Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication.
The person who associated a work with this deed has dedicated the work to the public domain by waiving all of their rights to the work worldwide under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights, to the extent allowed by law. You can copy, modify, distribute and perform the work, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.
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Poetical Fragments From Ethel Churchill Volume II By Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.)
compiled by Peter J. Bolton
Index
| Chapter | Blanchard | Other Title |
| I | The Coronation | |
| II | Small Miseries | |
| III | | Alteration |
| IV | A Portrait | |
| V | The First Doubt | |
| VI | Self-blindness | |
| VII | Memory | |
| VIII | | Doubts |
| IX | The Poet’s First Essay | |
| X | What is Success? | |
| XI | The Past | |
| XII | Gossipping | |
| XIII | Music of Laughter | |
| XIV | Unavailing Regret | |
| XV | The Rose | |
| XVI | The Marriage Vow | |
| XVII | Presentiment | |
| XVIII | The Fête | |
| XIX | Humanity Angelic | |
| XX | The Temple Garden | |
| XXI | Gifts Misused | |
| XXI | A Poet’s Love | |
| XXII | Want of Sympathy | ​ |
| XXIII | Bitter Experience | |
| XXIV | Love | |
| XXV | Change | |
| XXVI | Despondency | |
| XXVII | Pride in Trifles | |
| XXVIII | Hope and Love | |
| XXIX | Changes in London | |
| XXX | Influence of Poetry | |
| XXXII | The False and the Unjust | |
| XXXIII | The Lost | |
| XXXIV | The Influence of the Dead | |
| XXXV | Immortality | |
| XXXVI | Age | |
| XXXVII | The Heart’s Omens | |
| XXXVIII | The Father’s Love | |
| XXXIX | The Last Night with the Dead | |
| XL | Remembrance | |
| XLI | Death in the Flower | |
Note: As the chapter headings are not generally appropriate titles for the introductory poems, Blanchard, in arranging them for his Life and Literary Remains, provided titles of his own. In the few instances where he did not include them, the poems here either retain the chapter title or have been provided with a title that seems suitable.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume II/A Poet’s Love

(Untitled)
Faint and more faint amid the world of dreams,
That which once my all, thy image seems,
Pale as a star that in the morning gleams.
Long time that sweet face was my guiding star,
Bringing me visions of the fair and far,
Remote from this world's toil and this world's jar.
Around it was an atmosphere of light,
Deep with the tranquil loveliness of night,
Subdued and shadowy, yet serenely bright.
Like to a spirit did it dwell apart,
Hushed in the sweetest silence of my heart,
Lifting me to the heaven from whence thou art.
Too soon the day broke on that haunted hour,
Loosing its spell, and weakening its power.
All that had been imagination's dower.
The noontide quenched that once enchanted ray;
Care, labour, sorrow, gathered on the day;
Toil was upon my steps, dust on my way.
They melted down to earth my upward wings;
I half forgot the higher, better things—
The hope which yet again thy image brings.
Would I were worthier of thee! I am fain,
Amid my life of bitterness and pain,
To dream once more my early dreams again.
Blanchard’s title is:
A POET’S LOVE
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume II/A Portrait

CHAPTER IV.
THE FÊTE.
Many were lovely there; but, of that many,
Was one who looked the loveliest of any—
The youthful countess. On her cheek the dies
Were crimson with the morning's exercise;
The laugh upon her full red lip yet hung;
And, arrow-like, light words flashed from her tongue.
She had more loveliness than beauty—hers
Was that enchantment which the heart confers.
A mouth, sweet from its smiles; a large dark eye,
That had o'er all expression mastery,
Laughing the orb, but yet the long lash made
Somewhat of sadness with its twilight shade;
And suiting well the upcast look that seemed,
At times, as it of melancholy dreamed:
Her cheek was as a rainbow, it so changed
As each emotion o'er its surface ranged—
 Her face was full of feeling.
Blanchard’s title is:
A PORTRAIT
Adapted from The Rose in The Golden Violet
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume II/Bitter Experience

CHAPTER XXIII.
PRUDENCE IN POLITICS.
How often, in this cold and bitter world,
Is the warm heart thrown back upon itself!
Cold, careless, are we of another's grief;
We wrap ourselves in sullen selfishness:
Harsh-judging, narrow-minded, stern and chill
In measuring every action but our own.
How small are some men's motives, and how mean!
There are who never knew one generous thought;
Whose heart-pulse never quickened with the joy
Of kind endeavour, or sweet sympathy.—
There are too many such!
Blanchard’s title is:
BITTER EXPERIENCE
In The New Yorker (24th March 1838), as Selfishness
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume I/Weakness Ends with Love

CHAPTER XVIII.
POPE’S VILLA.
I say not, regret me; you will not regret;
You will try to forget me, you cannot forget;
We shall hear of each other, ah, misery to hear
Those names from another which once were so dear!
But deep words shall sting thee that breathe of the past,
And many things bring thee thoughts fated to last;
The fond hopes that centered in thee are all dead,
The iron has entered the soul where they fed.
Of the chain that once bound me, the memory is mine,
But my words are around thee, their power is on thine;
No hope, no repentance, my weakness is o'er,
It died with the sentence—I love thee no more!
Blanchard’s title is:
WEAKNESS ENDS WITH LOVE
Adapted and altered from The Lily of the Valley in Fisher’s Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1836
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume II/Alteration

CHAPTER III.
ALTERATION.
My heart hath turned aside
 From its early dreams;
To me their course has been
 Like mountain streams.
Bright and pure they left
 Their place of birth;
Soon on every wave
 Came taints of earth.
Weeds grew upon the banks,
 And, as the waters swept,
A bad or useless part
 Of all they kept,
Till it reached the plain below,
 An altered thing
Bearing gloomy trace,—
 Of its wandering.
Altered from Stanzas in The Amulet, 1826
Not in Blanchard
# Political Essays (1819)/Dedication

To JOHN HUNT, Esq.
THE tried, steady, zealous, and conscientious advocate of the liberty of his country, and the rights of mankind;——
One of those few persons who are what they would he thought to be; sincere without offence, firm but temperate; uniting private worth to public principle, a friend in need, a patriot without an eye to himself; who never betrayed an individual or a cause he pretended to serve—in short, that rare character, a man of common sense and common honesty.
This volume is respectfully and gratefully inscribed by
The Author.
# Political Essays (1819)

POLITICAL ESSAYS,
WITH
Sketches of Public Characters.
BY
WILLIAM HAZLITT.
"Come, draw the curtain, shew the picture."
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR WILLIAM HONE,
45, Ludgate Hill.
1819.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
Page
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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# Poor Folk (Hogarth)/July 29
## July 29th.

MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--I have read your two letters, and they make my heart ache. See here, dear friend of mine. You pass over certain things in silence, and write about a PORTION only of your misfortunes. Can it be that the letters are the outcome of a mental disorder? . . . Come and see me, for God's sake. Come today, direct from the office, and dine with us as you have done before. As to how you are living now, or as to what settlement you have made with your landlady, I know not, for you write nothing concerning those two points, and seem purposely to have left them unmentioned. Au revoir, my friend. Come to me today without fail. You would do better ALWAYS to dine here. Thedora is an excellent cook. Goodbye --Your own,
BARBARA DOBROSELOVA.
# Poor Folk (Hogarth)/August 2
## August 2nd.

MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Do not disquiet yourself. God will grant that all shall turn out well. Thedora has obtained a quantity of work, both for me and herself, and we are setting about it with a will. Perhaps it will put us straight again. Thedora suspects my late misfortunes to be connected with Anna Thedorovna; but I do not care--I feel extraordinarily cheerful today. So you are thinking of borrowing more money? If so, may God preserve you, for you will assuredly be ruined when the time comes for repayment! You had far better come and live with us here for a little while. Yes, come and take up your abode here, and pay no attention whatever to what your landlady says. As for the rest of your enemies and ill-wishers, I am certain that it is with vain imaginings that you are vexing yourself. . . . In passing, let me tell you that your style differs greatly from letter to letter. Goodbye until we meet again. I await your coming with impatience--Your own,
B. D.
# Poor Folk (Hogarth)/July 7
## July 7th.

MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA--SO much for yesterday! Yes, dearest, we have both been caught playing the fool, for I have become thoroughly bitten with the actress of whom I spoke. Last night I listened to her with all my ears, although, strangely enough, it was practically my first sight of her, seeing that only once before had I been to the theatre. In those days I lived cheek by jowl with a party of five young men--a most noisy crew- and one night I accompanied them, willy-nilly, to the theatre, though I held myself decently aloof from their doings, and only assisted them for company's sake. How those fellows talked to me of this actress! Every night when the theatre was open, the entire band of them (they always seemed to possess the requisite money) would betake themselves to that place of entertainment, where they ascended to the gallery, and clapped their hands, and repeatedly recalled the actress in question. In fact, they went simply mad over her. Even after we had returned home they would give me no rest, but would go on talking about her all night, and calling her their Glasha, and declaring themselves to be in love with "the canary-bird of their hearts." My defenseless self, too, they would plague about the woman, for I was as young as they. What a figure I must have cut with them on the fourth tier of the gallery! Yet, I never got a sight of more than just a corner of the curtain, but had to content myself with listening. She had a fine, resounding, mellow voice like a nightingale's, and we all of us used to clap our hands loudly, and to shout at the top of our lungs. In short, we came very near to being ejected. On the first occasion I went home walking as in a mist, with a single rouble left in my pocket, and an interval of ten clear days confronting me before next pay-day. Yet, what think you, dearest? The very next day, before going to work, I called at a French perfumer's, and spent my whole remaining capital on some eau-de- Cologne and scented soap! Why I did so I do not know. Nor did I dine at home that day, but kept walking and walking past her windows (she lived in a fourth-storey flat on the Nevski Prospect). At length I returned to my own lodging, but only to rest a short hour before again setting off to the Nevski Prospect and resuming my vigil before her windows. For a month and a half I kept this up--dangling in her train. Sometimes I would hire cabs, and discharge them in view of her abode; until at length I had entirely ruined myself, and got into debt. Then I fell out of love with her--I grew weary of the pursuit. . . . You see, therefore, to what depths an actress can reduce a decent man. In those days I was young. Yes, in those days I was VERY young.
M. D.
# Privilege

"Blest is the right to share"
* Coates, Florence Earle (1909), "Privilege" in The Independent (30 December 1909).
* Coates, Florence Earle (1909), "Privilege" in Lyrics of Life (1909).
* Coates, Florence Earle (1916), "Privilege" in Poems II.
# Privy Council Appeals Act, 1950

* related portals: Constitutional documents of South Africa, Acts of the Parliament of South Africa.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
Act No. 16 of 1950. First published on 12 May 1950 in Government Gazette Extraordinary No. 4384, and came into force upon publication. Repealed on 1 January 1960 by the Supreme Court Act, 1959.
Act
To amend the South Africa Act, 1909, so as to abolish appeals to the Privy Council.
Be it enacted by the King’s Most Excellent Majesty, the Senate and the House of Assembly of the Union of South Africa, as follows:―
1. Section one hundred and six of the South Africa Act, 1909, is hereby repealed and the following section substituted therefor:
| “No appeal to King-in-Council. | 106. There shall be no appeal to the King-in-Council― (a)   from any judgment or order of the Appellate Division of the Supreme Court of South Africa given on an appeal from any court in the Union or the territory of South-West Africa; or ​ (b)   from any judgment or order of any court in the Union or the said territory, other than such Appellate Division.”. |
2. This Act shall be called the Privy Council Appeals Act, 1950.
This work is in the public domain because it was created and first published in South Africa and it is an official text of a legislative, administrative or legal nature, or an official translation of such a text.
According to the Copyright Act, 1978, § 12 (8) (a), "No copyright shall subsist in official texts of a legislative, administrative or legal nature, or in official translations of such texts."
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# Privy Council Registrar Act 1853

The Privy Council Registrar Act 1853 is an act of the Parliament of the United Kingdom.
1. It shall be lawful for the registrar for the time being of Her Majesty’s Privy Council appointed under the said Act, or such other person or persons as shall be appointed for this purpose by Her Majesty in Council or by the said Judicial Committee, to examine witnesses and take affidavits and depositions upon oath in all appeals, causes, and matters whatsoever pending before Her Majesty in Council or before the said Judicial Committee, and to administer oaths accordingly.
2. In case of the absence of the said registrar it shall be lawful for the President of Her Majesty’s Privy Council to appoint a person to act for the said registrar during such absence; and such person while so acting shall have the same powers in all respects as are vested in the said registrar.
3. Nothing herein contained shall be taken to affect the power of Her Majesty under the said Act or otherwise, to direct or limit the duties to be performed by the said registrar, or any other authority which might have been exercised by Her Majesty or by her Privy Council or the said Judicial Committee in case this Act had not been passed.
This work is in the public domain worldwide because it was created by a public body of the United Kingdom with Crown Status and commercially published before 1974.
See Crown copyright artistic works, Crown copyright non-artistic works and List of Public Bodies with Crown Status.
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