Classic and Contemporary Poetry
SONG (6), by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Where, oh! Where's the chain to fling Last Line: The magic of so dear a tone. Alternate Author Name(s): L. E. L.; Maclean, Letitia | ||||||||
WHERE, oh! where's the chain to fling, One that will bind CUPID'S wing, -- One that will have longer power Than the April sun or shower? Form it not of Eastern gold, All too weighty it to hold; Form it neither all of bloom, -- Never does Love find a tomb Sudden, soon, as when he meets Death amid unchanging sweets: But if you would fling a chain, And not fling it all in vain, Like a fairy form a spell Of all that is changeable, Take the purple tints that deck, Meteor-like, the peacock's neck; Take the many hues that play On the rainbow's colour'd way; Never let a hope appear Without its companion fear; Only smile to sigh, and then Change into a smile again; Be to-day as sad, as pale, As minstrel with his lovelorn tale: But to-morrow gay as all Life had been one festival. If a woman would secure All that makes her reign endure, And, alas! her reign must be Ever most in phantasy, Never let an envious eye Gaze upon the heart too nigh; Never let the veil be thrown Quite aside, as all were known Of delight and tenderness, In the spirit's last recess; And, one spell all spells above, Never let her own her love. BUT from the harp a darker song Is sweeping like the winds along The night gale, at that dreamy hour When spirit and when storm have power; Yet sadly sweet: and can this be, AMENAIDE, the wreck of thee? Mind, dangerous and glorious gift, Too much thy native heaven has left Its nature in thee, for thy light To be content with earthly home: It hath another, and its sight Will too much to that other roam, -- And heavenly light and earthly clay But ill bear with alternate sway; -- Till jarring elements create The evil which they sought to shun, And deeper feel their mortal state, In struggling for a higher one. There is no rest for the proud mind; Conscious of its high powers confined, Vain dreams 'mid its best hopes arise; It is itself its sacrifice. Ah! sad it is, to see the deck Dismasted, of some noble wreck; And sad to see the marble stone Defaced, and with grey moss o'ergrown; And sad to see the broken lute For ever to its music mute! But what is lute, or fallen tower, Or ship sunk in its proudest hour, To awe and mystery combined In their worst shape -- the ruin'd mind? To her was trusted that fine power Which rules the bards enthusiast hour; The human heart gave up its keys To her, who ruled its sympathies In song, whose influence was brought From what first in herself had wrought Too passionate; her least emotion Swept like the whirlwind o'er the ocean. Kind, tender, but too sensitive, None seem'd her equal love to bear; Affection's ties small joys could give, Tried but by what she hoped they were. Too much on all her feelings threw The colouring of their own hue; Too much her ardent spirit dream'd Things would be such as she had deem'd. She trusted love, albeit her heart Was ill made for love's happiness, She ask'd too much, another's part Was cold beside her own excess. She sought for praise; her share of fame, It went beyond her wildest claim: But ill could her proud spirit bear All that befals the laurel's share; -- Oh, well they gave the laurel tree A minstrel's coronal to be! Immortal as its changeless hue, The deadly poison circles through, Its venom makes its life; ah! still Earth's lasting growth are those of ill; -- And mined was the foundation-stone The spirit's regal shrine o'erthrown. Aimless and dark, the wandering mind Yet had a beauty left behind; A touch, a tone, a shade, the more To tell of what had pass'd before. She woke the harp, and backward flung The cloud of hair, that pall-like hung O'er her pale brow and radiant eyes, Wild as the light of midnight skies, When the red meteor rides the cloud, Telling the storm has burst its shroud: A passionate hue was on her cheek; Untranquil colours such as break With crimson light the northern sky; Yet on her wan lip seem'd to lie A faint sweet smile, as if not yet It could its early charm forget. She sang, oh! well the heart might own The magic of so dear a tone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FELICIA HEMANS by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON THE CASTLE OF CHILLON by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON THE FACTORY; 'TIS AN ACCURSED THING! by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON THE FEMALE CONVICT by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON THE MARRIAGE VOW by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON A CHILD SCREENING A DOVE FROM A HAWK, BY STEWARDSON by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON A COMPARISON by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON A GIRL AT HER DEVOTIONS, BY NEWTON by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON A HISTORY OF THE LYRE by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON A LADY'S BEAUTY by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON |
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