To pour its secret sorrows to thy ears,-
Let these say how thou feltest! Though thyself
Not only wert from every stain exempt,

But that not e'en the most pestiferous breath

Of most deliberate malevolence

Could ever in thy conduct find a flaw,

Yet thou wert ever ready to discern
Some palliative for frailties of mankind.
In thee the fallen, not a censurer

Found, but a sorrowing, sympathetic friend!
Grief, came she even in the garb of vice,
To thee was sacred; and if charity

May indeed cover multitude of sins,
What

may not then be said of it when borne-
(Not as antagonist weight so to eke out
Our own slack worthiness)-by one like thee,
Exempted from all need (as men wear masks)
With one compensatory grace to hide
A thousand failings? No, in thee it was
A fresh, gratuitous, and healthful spring
Like that of living waters: not squeezed out,
A most equivocal distilment, drawn,
(By process as elaborate as those

Of antique chemistry) from neighbouring vices! Thine was no maudling, whimpering charity!

It was the charity of one whose breast,

Rich in its own creations, owed to these A consciousness of all man's heart can feel; In that warm bosom there did dwell enshrined A human microcosm, which reflected All the mind's accidents; and though in her Each impulse not consistent with true worth, If it had e'er had birth, had been repressed, This opulence of nature, this rich gift Of human intuitions, qualified(As mariners assisted by a compass May unknown seas explore)-her to extend E'en to the obscurest regions of the mind, To all those passions which command our tears, To all those impulses which would be voiceless Had they not correspondent sighs and groans, A quick discernment, and a sympathy Which almost did anticipate the prayer Labouring for utterance in an aching heart Desirous of her aid, to speak ashamed!

STANZAS

Written the 7th and 10th of February,

ON THE DEATH OF MARY BRAITHWAITE, THE THIRD SISTER OF THE AUTHOR.

1.

IF innocence, and saint-like truth

Persisted in from earliest youth,
If passiveness so sweet,

In her so patient was, it might,

If praise it sought, that praise excite

Which active virtues meet.

2.

If all that marks the christian here,

The soul devout, the ready tear,

For every child of woe;

If these, dear Mary, might require
The votive lay, well from my lyre
The elegy may flow.

74

3.

The tender grace in thee enshrined,
Thy patient gentleness of mind,
Thy saint-like purity,

Perfect exemption from each thought
Of ill in others; thy untaught,
And deep humility;

4.

Thy tender care, in deed and word,
That wrong should never be incurred

From thee by any one :
Thy habit all things to refer
To the Almighty Arbiter,

And Him to serve alone:

5.

To those that knew thee, these might well

Inspire the wish like thee t'excel

In

every christian grace:

Thou liv'st in each of these enshrined;

Each gains new strength, thee called to mind,

To run the christian race.