"Fair as thine own heroic deed Thou risest on my dream, A halo is around thee, 'Tis the tempest's lightning gleam-- Upborne by every billow, And o'erswept by every gale, One sound hath nerved thy noble heart-- The dying seaman's wail! "Thine eye onto the wreck is turned-- Thy hand is on the oar-- Where is that death-prolonging shriek? It thrills the seas no more! A human soul to life hath risen Where'er thy wing hath waved: The wail is hushed--the storm is past-- The perishing are saved! "Thou standest, like thy native home, A beacon lit on high; Thy name comes o'er the waters Like a nation's gathering cry; And England's sons shall hail thee, Where'er that name shall thrill, A glory upon every wave-- A light on every hill!" So much praise was enough to turn the head of any less sensible girl than our heroine; but one who knew wrote of her after this time, in the "Berwick and Kelso Warder:"--"It is indeed gratifying to state, that amidst all the tumults of applause, Grace Darling never for a moment forgot the modest dignity of conduct which became her sex and station. The flattering testimonials of all kinds which were showered upon her, never produced in her mind any feeling but a sense of wonder and pleasure. She continued, notwithstanding the improvement of her circumstances, to reside at the Longstone lighthouse with her father and mother, finding, in her limited sphere of domestic duty on the sea-girt islet, a more honourable and more lasting enjoyment than could be found in the more crowded haunts of the mainland, and thus afforded, by her conduct, the best proof that the liberality of the public had not been unworthily bestowed." A paper written in the "Scotsman" on the subject is exceedingly good, and no doubt amazed and delighted Grace as much as those that were more apparently eulogistic; for to a sensible, modest girl, too much praise is more disagreeable than none at all.