The Fate of Adelaide A Swiss Romantic Tale; And Other Poems: By Letitia Elizabeth Landon |
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| II. | II. |
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| II. |
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 | The Fate of Adelaide |  |
II.
Raised on a rock, which overlooks the vale,Like to it's guardian power, a ruin stands;
It is o'ergrown with ivy, and the walls,
Mouldering around, are grey with aged moss.
There is yet left one melancholy hall—
The roof is riven, and the big rain drops beat
Upon the weed-grown floor; and sun-beams fall,
Almost in mockery, for they are fraught
With too much happiness for scenes like this.
It has no tapestry but the spider's web;
No music save the skreech owl's fearful cry,
And the bat's noisy flight, or when the wind
Howls thro' it drearily, as 'twere a dirge
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Of those who dwell around, and they will tell
The wild romantic tales of other days—
Remembrances that linger like the tints
Of evening blushes 'neath the veil of night.
Such is the tale of which my lyre would tell,
(Unskill'd and plaintive are the notes it breathes,)
I scarce may hope to catch one echo'd sound,
One murmur of the strain I love so well.
My wreath, if wreath at all my harp may claim,
Will be of simplest field-flowers. Oh! belov'd
Inspirer of thy youthful minstrel's dream,
How dear the meed of fame would be to me!
For thou must see it, and thy hand would give
The brightest blossom that could sparkle there.
Thine was the earliest smile that ever shed
Its cheering light on my young laurel's growth.
Tho' other praise be dear (where is the bard,
To whom the voice of flattery is not sweet?)
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Be half so treasur'd, half so priz'd as thine.
| The Fate of Adelaide | |