Thy days had calmly past, in peace thine end; Led by thy patron’s vanity astray, Thy own misled thee in thy trackless way, Urging thee on by hope absurd and vain, 300 Where never peace or comfort smiled again! “Once more I saw him, when his spirits fail’d, And my desire to aid him then prevail’d; He show’d a softer feeling in his eye, And watch’d my looks, and own’d the sympathy. ’Twas now the calm of wearied pride; so long As he had strength was his resentment strong; But in such place, with strangers all around, And they such strangers, to have something found Allied to his own heart, an early friend-- } 310 One, only one, who would on him attend, } To give and take a look at this his journey’s end! } One link, however slender, of the chain That held him where he could not long remain; The one sole interest!--No, he could not now Retain his anger; Nature knew not how; And so there came a softness to his mind, And he forgave the usage of mankind. His cold long fingers now were press’d to mine, And his faint smile of kinder thoughts gave sign; 320 His lips moved often as he tried to lend His words their sound, and softly whisper’d ‘friend!’ Not without comfort in the thought express’d By that calm look with which he sank to rest.” * * * * * “The man,” said George, “you see, through life retain’d The boy’s defects; his virtues too remain’d. “But where are now those minds so light and gay, } So forced on study, so intent on play, } Swept, by the world’s rude blasts, from hope’s dear } views away } Some grieved for long neglect in earlier times, 330 Some sad from frailties, some lamenting crimes; Thinking, with sorrow, on the season lent For noble purpose, and in trifling spent; And now, at last, when they in earnest view The nothings done--what work they find to do! Where is that virtue that the generous boy Felt, and resolved that nothing should destroy? He who with noble indignation glow’d When vice had triumph? who his tear bestow’d On injured merit? he who would possess 340 Power, but to aid the children of distress; Who has such joy in generous actions shown, And so sincere, they might be call’d his own; Knight, hero, patriot, martyr! on whose tongue, And potent arm, a nation’s welfare hung; He who to public misery brought relief, And soothed the anguish of domestic grief? Where now this virtue’s fervour, spirit, zeal? Who felt so warmly, has he ceased to feel? The boy’s emotions of that noble kind, 350 Ah! sure th’ experienced man has not resign’d; Or are these feelings varied? has the knight,