Church of the Carmelite Friary

LONG years have fled away since last
I stood upon my native land,
And other longer years have past
Since here I raised a suppliant hand ;
And yet how oft the sacred shrine,
How oft the holy vesper song
Again in slumber have been mine,
Upon the night hour borne along ;
And wakened in the wanderer's mind
His early hope, and early fear,
All that my youth had left behind,
All that my youth held more than dear
Methinks it has not all been lost,
The influence of that holy fane ;
How often has its image crost,
And checked when other checks were vain.
Rage and revenge, and worldly care,
Have all been calmed and purified,
By memory of the childish prayer
I whispered at my mother's side.
Again I see the sunbeams fall
Upon the sculptured aisles’ array;
Again the marble saints recall
The feelings of my earlier day.
Still be their holy presence given,
Still be their faith alive in me,
For he hath need to hope in heaven,
Whose home is on the stormy sea!

These lines refer to an anecdote told me by a young Naval Officer, respecting the capture of a piratical vessel, off the coast of Brazil, about eight years since. The crew consisted of a mixture of all nations, among whom there were two Irishmen and a Scotchman. They all fought with desperation, and several were killed in the action which took place between the boats of the English ship and the pirate. “I was made prize-master,” said the gallant relater to me, “and amongst some papers which I found on board, was an unfinished letter in English, which made me lament the fate of the writer, who, no doubt, was one of the unfortunate trio of our fellow-subjects on board. The Scotchman made his escape ; one of the Irishmen died of his wounds ; the other was hanged at Rio, and, from his demeanour at the place of execution, I have always considered him to be the writer of the letter which I found.”
I was afterwards presented with the original letter. It appears to have been addressed to an early friend in the West Indies, and from it the following passage is extracted:
“Amid all the chances of warfare, and through the changes of desperate years, I have never forgotten that holy chapel where first I was taught to pray, and its memory has often come over me with a blessed and saving influence. Fortune has made me not only the sport of the elements, but the companion in arms of daring and unprincipled men. I have been so familiar with scenes of murder, as scarcely to shudder at them ; to this my evil destiny has forced me, but, though compelled to be a sharer in them, my heart has never scoffed at its Maker, nor has my hand been raised but in self-defence; or, what was the same thing, in the duty I was obliged to perform—in which disobedience, or even hesitation, would have caused instant death.”
Rate this poem:(0.00 / 0 votes)
82 Views

Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Letitia Elizabeth Landon was an English poet. Born 14th August 1802 at 25 Hans Place, Chelsea, she lived through the most productive period of her life nearby, at No.22. A precocious child with a natural gift for poetry, she was driven by the financial needs of her family to become a professional writer and thus a target for malicious gossip (although her three children by William Jerdan were successfully hidden from the public). In 1838, she married George Maclean, governor of Cape Coast Castle on the Gold Coast, whence she travelled, only to die a few months later (15th October) of a fatal heart condition. Behind her post-Romantic style of sentimentality lie preoccupations with art, decay and loss that give her poetry its characteristic intensity and in this vein she attempted to reinterpret some of the great male texts from a woman’s perspective. Her originality rapidly led to her being one of the most read authors of her day and her influence, commencing with Tennyson in England and Poe in America, was long-lasting. However, Victorian attitudes led to her poetry being misrepresented and she became excluded from the canon of English literature, where she belongs. more…

All Letitia Elizabeth Landon poems | Letitia Elizabeth Landon Books

FAVORITE (1 fan)

Translation

Find a translation for this poem in other languages:

Select another language:

  • - Select -
  • 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
  • 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
  • Español (Spanish)
  • Esperanto (Esperanto)
  • 日本語 (Japanese)
  • Português (Portuguese)
  • Deutsch (German)
  • العربية (Arabic)
  • Français (French)
  • Русский (Russian)
  • ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
  • 한국어 (Korean)
  • עברית (Hebrew)
  • Український (Ukrainian)
  • اردو (Urdu)
  • Magyar (Hungarian)
  • मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
  • Indonesia (Indonesian)
  • Italiano (Italian)
  • தமிழ் (Tamil)
  • Türkçe (Turkish)
  • తెలుగు (Telugu)
  • ภาษาไทย (Thai)
  • Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
  • Čeština (Czech)
  • Polski (Polish)
  • Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
  • Românește (Romanian)
  • Nederlands (Dutch)
  • Ελληνικά (Greek)
  • Latinum (Latin)
  • Svenska (Swedish)
  • Dansk (Danish)
  • Suomi (Finnish)
  • فارسی (Persian)
  • ייִדיש (Yiddish)
  • հայերեն (Armenian)
  • Norsk (Norwegian)
  • English (English)

Discuss this Letitia Elizabeth Landon poem with the community:

Citation

Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:

Style:MLAChicagoAPA

"Church of the Carmelite Friary" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 1 Apr. 2020. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/45109/church-of-the-carmelite-friary>.

We need you!

Help us build the largest poetry community and poems collection on the web!

Our favorite collection of

Famous Poets

»

Thanks for your vote! We truly appreciate your support.