Despondence seized him. To the lowliest place Alone he stole, and sadly took his seat In dust and ashes. She, his bosom friend The sharer of his lot for many years, Sought out his dark retreat. Shuddering she saw His kingly form like living sepulchre, And in the maddening haste of sorrow said God hath forgotten. She with him had borne Unuttered woe o'er the untimely graves Of all whom she had nourished,--shared with him The silence of a home that hath no child, The plunge from wealth to want, the base contempt Of menial and of ingrate;--but to see The dearest object of adoring love Her next to God, a prey to vile disease Hideous and loathsome, all the beauty marred That she had worshipped from her ardent youth Deeming it half divine, she could not bear, Her woman's strength gave way, and impious words In her despair she uttered. But her lord To deeper anguish stung by her defect And rash advice, reprovingly replied Pointing to Him who meeteth out below Both good and evil in mysterious love, And she was silenced. What a sacred power Hath hallow'd Friendship o'er the nameless ills That throng our pilgrimage. Its sympathy, Doth undergird the drooping, and uphold The foot that falters in its miry path. It grows more precious, as the hair grows grey. Time's alchymy that rendereth so much dross Back for our gay entrustments, shows more pure The perfect essence of its sanctity, Gold unalloyed. How doth the cordial grasp, Of hands that twined with ours in school days, now Delight us as our sunbeam nears the west, Soothing, perchance our self-esteem with proofs That 'mid all faults the good have loved us still, And quickening with redoubled energy To do or suffer. The three friends of Job Who in the different regions where they dwelt Teman, and Naamah and the Shuhite land, Heard tidings of his dire calamity, Moved by one impulse, journey'd to impart Their sorrowing sympathy. Yet when they saw Him fallen so low, so chang'd that scarce a trace Remained to herald his identity Down by his side upon the earth, they sate Uttering no language save the gushing tear,-- Spontaneous homage to a grief so great. * * * * *