Analysis of The Troubadour. Canto 4 A (Leila)
Letitia Elizabeth Landon 1802 (Chelsea) – 1838 (Cape Coast)
IT was a wild and untrain'd bower,
Enough to screen from April shower,
Or shelter from June's hotter hour,
Tapestried with starry jessamines,
The summer's gold and silver mines;
With a moss seat, and its turf set
With crowds of the white violet.
And close beside a fountain play'd,
Dim, cool, from its encircling shade;
And lemon trees grew round, as pale
As never yet to them the gale
Had brought a message from the sun
To say their summer task was done.
It was a very solitude
For love in its despairing mood,
With just enough of breath and bloom,
With just enough of calm and gloom,
To suit a heart where love has wrought
His wasting work, with saddest thought;
Where all its sickly fantasies
May call up suiting images:
With flowers like hopes that spring and fade
As only for a mockery made,
And shadows of the boughs that fall
Like sorrow drooping over all.
And LEILA , loveliest! can it be
Such destiny is made for thee?
Yes, it is written on thy brow
The all thy lip may not avow,--
All that in woman's heart can dwell,
Save by a blush unutterable.
Alas! that ever RAYMOND came
To light thy cheek and heart to flame,--
A hidden fire, but not the less
Consuming in its dark recess.
She had leant by his couch of pain,
When throbbing pulse and bursting vein
Fierce spoke the fever, when fate near
Rode on the tainted atmosphere;
And though that parch'd lip spoke alone
Of other love, in fondest tone,
And though the maiden knew that death
Might be upon his lightest breath,
Yet never by her lover's side
More fondly watch'd affianced bride,--
With pain or fear more anxious strove,
Than LEILA watch'd another's love.
But he was safe!--that very day
Farewell, it had been her's to say;
And he was gone to his own land,
To seek another maiden's hand.
Who that had look'd on her that morn,
Could dream of all her heart had borne;
Her cheek was red, but who could know
'Twas flushing with the strife below;--
Her eye was bright, but who could tell
It shone with tears she strove to quell;--
Her voice was gay, her step was light;
And, beaming, beautiful, and bright,
It was as if life could confer
Nothing but happiness on her.
Ah! who could think that all so fair
Was semblance, and but misery there.
'Tis strange with how much power and pride
The softness is of love allied;
How much of power to force the breast
To be in outward show at rest,--
How much of pride that never eye
May look upon its agony!
Ah! little will the lip reveal
Of all the burning heart can feel.
But this was past, and she was now
With clasped hands prest to her brow,
And head bow'd down upon her knee,
And heart-pulse throbbing audibly,
And tears that gush'd like autumn rain,
The more for that they gush'd in vain.
Oh! why should woman ever love,
Trusting to one false star above;
And fling her little chance away
Of sunshine for its treacherous ray.
At first ELVIRA had not sought
To break upon her lonely thought.
But it was now the vesper time,
And she return'd not at the chime
Of holy bells,--she knew the hour:--
At last they search'd her favourite bower;
Beside the fount they found the maid
On head bow'd down, as if she pray'd;
Her long black hair fell like a veil,
Making her pale brow yet more pale.
'Twas strange to look upon her face,
Then turn and see its shadowy trace
Within the fountain; one like stone,
So cold, so colourless, so lone,--
A statue nymph, placed there to show
How far the sculptor's art could go.
The other, and that too the shade,
In light and crimson warmth array'd;
For the red glow of day declining,
Was now upon the fountain shining,
And the shape in its mirror bright
Of sparkling waves caught warmth and light.
ELVIRA spoke not, though so near,
Her words lay mute in their own fear:
At last she whisper'd LEILA'S name,--
No answer from the maiden came.
She took one cold hand in her own,
Started, and it dropp'd lifeless down!
She gazed upon the fixed eye,
And read in it mortality.
And lingers yet that maiden's tale
A legend of the lemon vale:
They say that never from that hour
Has flourish'd there a single flower,--
The jasmine droop'd, the violets died,
Nothing grew by that fountain side,
Save the pale pining lemon trees,
And the dark weeping cypresses.--
And now when to the twilight star
The lover wakes his lone guitar,
Or maiden bids a song impart
All that is veil'd in her own heart,
The wild and mournful tale they tell
Of her who loved, alas! too well.—
Scheme | AAABBXXCCDDEEFFGGHHBBCCII JJKKLDMMBB NNOOPPQQRRXS TBUU VVWWLLXXAAYY RRZZ1 J2 2 KKJJNNSSTT HH3 3 AACCDDBBPPWWCC4 4 XX OOMMPX1 J DDAARRBB5 5 6 6 LL |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Tetractys (20%) |
Metre | 110100110 011111010 110111010 11101 01010101 10110111 11101100 01010101 111101001 01011111 11011101 11010101 11110111 1101010 11010101 11011101 11011101 11011111 11011101 11110100 11110100 110111101 110101001 0110111 11010101 0101111 11001111 11110111 01111101 11010111 11011 01110101 11110111 010101101 01001101 111011111 11010101 11010111 1101010 01111101 11010101 01010111 11011101 11010101 110111 11111101 11010101 11111101 1111111 01111111 1101011 11111011 11110111 01111111 11010101 01111111 11111111 01110111 01010001 11111101 10110010 11111111 110011001 111111001 01011101 111101101 11010111 11111101 11011100 11010101 11010111 11110111 1111101 01110101 01110100 01111101 01111101 11110101 10111101 01010101 11111001 11010111 11010101 11110101 01011101 110111010 11110110 01011101 11111111 01111101 10011111 11110101 110111001 01010111 111111 0111111 1101111 01001101 01010101 101111010 110101010 00101101 11011101 01011111 01110111 1111011 11010101 11111001 10011101 1101011 01010100 0101111 01010101 111101110 110101010 010101001 10111101 10110101 001101 0111011 01011101 11010101 11110011 01010111 10110111 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 4,303 |
Words | 829 |
Sentences | 31 |
Stanzas | 10 |
Stanza Lengths | 25, 10, 12, 4, 12, 8, 10, 22, 8, 14 |
Lines Amount | 125 |
Letters per line (avg) | 27 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 339 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 82 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 4:17 min read
- 105 Views
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"The Troubadour. Canto 4 A (Leila)" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 21 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/25735/the-troubadour.-canto-4-a-%28leila%29>.
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