Poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon

The Castle of Chillon

FAIR lake, thy lovely and thy haunted shore
Hath only echoes for the poet’s lute;
None may tread there but with unsandalled foot,
Submissive to the great who went before,
Filled with the mighty memories of yore.
And yet how mournful are the records there:
Captivity and exile and despair
Did they endure who now endure no more,—
The patriot, the woman, and the bard,
Whose names thy winds and waters bear along;
What did the world bestow for their reward
But suffering, sorrow, bitterness, and wrong?
Genius! a hard and weary lot is thine,—
The heart thy fuel, and the grave thy shrine.

1. Lines to ——— (No, no! thou hast broken the spell that entwin'd me)
2. Ideal Likenesses. Ariadne
3. Song (I wrote my name upon the sand)
4. Love’s Choice
5. The Missionary’s Wife

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