Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Heath’s Book of Beauty, 1836/Lady Caroline Maxsé

by Letitia Elizabeth Landon

LADY CAROLINE MAXSÉ AS A GIPSY

Painted by Rochard⁠Engraved by H. Cook

Transcribed from F. J. Sypher’s 'Poems from the Annuals'

LADY CAROLINE MAXSÉ

Lady, lovely lady mine,
    Take my hand and tell me
All that may my lot befall,
    All that e'er befell me.

Wilt thou read the past for me?
    No—no, leave it lonely;
I will task thine art and thee
    For the future only.

Who could think upon the past
    With such smile before them?
Life is lighted at the eyes
    That are shining o'er them.

Spread the cards, and let me see
    What fine skill thou sharest—
Is a lady fair as hearts,
    Shining there the fairest?

Is a letter on its way?
    Have I cause to tremble
At the rage the knave of clubs
    Labours to dissemble?

Does my wish come out? Ah, no!
    Vain is all my scheming—
Fling the faithless cards aside,
    This is idle dreaming.

Thou art all too young and fair
    For the sign and omen;
With the sybil, haggard—worn,
    What hast thou in common?

Those who read the midnight stars
    Through hours long and dreary,
Watch until the cheek is wan,
    And the eye is weary.

Such dwell lonely in the walls
    Of some ancient college;
And they droop beneath the weight
    Of their bitter knowledge.

But thine eyes are warm with light,
    And thy cheek with roses;
On thy lip is such a smile
    As the dawn discloses.

Lady, lovely lady, mine,
    No—thou canst not tell me
What the future may befall,
    Nor yet what befell me.