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Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.

Walter Savage Landor 1775–1864

The Death of Artemidora


“ARTEMIDORA! Gods invisible,

While thou art lying faint along the couch,

Have tied the sandal to thy veined feet,

And stand beside thee, ready to convey

Thy weary steps where other rivers flow.

Refreshing shades will waft thy weariness

Away, and voices like thine own come nigh,

Soliciting, nor vainly, thy embrace.”

Artemidora sigh’d, and would have press’d

The hand now pressing hers, but was too weak.

Fate’s shears were over her dark hair unseen

While thus Elpenor spake: he look’d into

Eyes that had given light and life erewhile

To those above them, those now dim with tears

And watchfulness. Again he spake of joy,

Eternal. At that word, that sad word, joy,

Faithful and fond her bosom heav’d once more,

Her head fell back: one sob, one loud deep sob

Swell’d through the darken’d chamber; ’t was not hers:

With her that old boat incorruptible,

Unwearied, undiverted in its course,

Had plash’d the water up the farther strand.