(28th December 1822) Fragments in Rhyme X: The Eve of St. John
28th December 1822) Fragments in Rhyme XI: The Emerald Ring — a Superstition see The Improvisatrice (1824
The London Literary Gazette, 1821-1822

“One rich light
Broke thro' the shadow of the tempest's wing,
While the black clouds, with gold and purple edged,
Caught every moment warmer hues, until
'Twas all one sparkling arch, and, like a king
In triumph o'er his foes, the Sun god sought
The blue depths of the sea; — the waters yet
Were ruffled with the storm, and the white foam
Yet floated on the billows, while the wind
Murmured at times like to an angry child,
Who sobs even in his slumber.”

Letitia Elizabeth Landon

(2nd February 1822) Poetic Sketches, No.4
The London Literary Gazette, 1821-1822

“Sympathy is the surest destruction of selfishness. Children, like the grown person, grow the better for participation in the sufferings where their own only share is pity.”

Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Traits and Trials of Early Life (1836)

“Water—the mighty, the pure, the beautiful, the unfathomable—where is thy element so glorious as it is in thine own domain, the deep seas? What an infinity of power is in the far Atlantic, the boundary of two separate worlds, apart like those of memory and of hope! or in the bright Pacific, whose tides are turned to gold by a southern sun, and in whose bosom sleep a thousand isles, each covered with the verdure, the flowers, and the fruit of Eden! But, amid all thy hereditary kingdoms, to which hast thou given beauty, as a birthright, lavishly as thou hast to thy favourite Mediterranean? The silence of a summer night is now sleeping on its bosom, where the bright stars are mirrored, as if in its depths they had another home and another heaven. A spirit, cleaving air midway between the two, might have paused to ask which was sea, and which was sky. The shadows of earth and earthly things, resting omen-like upon the waters, alone shewed which was the home and which the mirror of the celestial host.”

Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Heath's book of Beauty, 1833 (1832)

“[Julian]
Why did I try a faith I should have known
Spotless as the white dove. I cannot feel
The beating of her heart. I'll kiss the colour
Back to her cheek. Oh, God! her lip is ice —
There is no breath upon it! —
AGNES, thy JULIAN is thy murderer!”

Letitia Elizabeth Landon

(26th October 1822) Dramatic Scene I
(2nd November 1822) Dramatic Scene II see The Vow of the Peacock (1835) Bacchus and Ariadne
16th November 1822) Fragments in Rhyme I: The Soldier's Funeral see The Improvisatrice (1824
16th November 1822) Fragments in Rhyme II: Lines Written under a Picture of a Girl Burning a Love Letter see The Improvisatrice (1824
The London Literary Gazette, 1821-1822

“To know yourself less beloved than you love, is a dreadful feeling”

Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Traits and Trials of Early Life (1836)

“Alas! she looked but in that eye
Where now was writ her destiny.
The heart love leaves looks back ever;
The heart where he is dwelling, never.”

Letitia Elizabeth Landon

The Vow of the Peacock (1835)

“Genius doth catch the music of the spheres,
Which mortal ear was never meant to know.
Genius can penetrate the mysteries
Of feeling, all unknown to other hearts;
A power hath entered in the inmost soul,
Whose presence may not be contained.”

Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Translations, From the French

“Few are the beliefs, still fewer the superstitions of to-day. We pretend to account for everything, till we do not believe enough for that humility so essential to moral discipline. But the dark creed of the fatalist still holds its ground — there is that within us, which dares not deny what, in the still depths of the soul, we feel to have a mysterious predominance. To a certain degree we controul our own actions — we have the choice of right or wrong; but the consequences, the fearful consequences, lie not with us. Let any one look upon the most important epochs of his life; how little have they been of his own making — how one slight thing has led on to another, till the result has been the very reverse of our calculations. Our emotions, how little are they under our own controul! how often has the blanched lip, or the flushed cheek, betrayed what the will was strong to conceal! Of all our sensations, love is the one which has most the stamp of Fate. What a mere chance usually leads to our meeting the person destined to alter the whole current of our life. What a mystery even to ourselves the influence which they exercise over us. Why should we feel so differently towards them, to what we ever felt before? An attachment is an epoch in existence — it leads to casting off old ties, that, till then, had seemed our dearest; it begins new duties; often, in a woman especially, changes the whole character; and yet, whether in its beginning, its continuance or its end, love is as little within our power as the wind that passes, of which no man knows whither it goeth or whence it comes.”

Letitia Elizabeth Landon

No.14. The Bride of Lammermuir — LUCY ASHTON.
Literary Remains