And whispers hope, when hearts are reft of joy. A Star arose amidst the heaven of gloom, Which bended o'er this glorious Art divine; It nobly strove the darkness to illume, And place the Science on its proper shrine. It shrank not from the strife, but dared the doom That meets full oft the soul of high design; It 'scaped this lot, was victor loud proclaimed, And Esculapius with the gods was named. Years have grown old, and Time's relentless hand Has fallen on many a head of regal pride; Full many a warrior born to use command Has kiss'd the grave--that dark repulsive bride; And many an arch whose fair proportions spanned The heaving wave, has sunk beneath the tide; Earth's mightiest things have triumphed over night, Gleamed forth in splendour, then been lost to sight. But not so thou; for thou hast never known What 'twas to feel the waning love of them, Who, once enchanted, drink in every tone, Yet let Time chant their worship's requiem; Forget how praises from their lips have flown, And eager seek for matter to condemn: None such thy friends--they prove with deed and heart That Friendship is of Death a thing apart. Oh! Patron Saint, sure thine's a brilliant doom! We judge the future by the seasons past, And judging thus, eternity will loom Upon Creation ere thy name is classed Among the things that were. Thou hast no tomb, Time cannot say thy glory shall not last, For it has mocked him from his earliest years And as he darkens, still more bright appears. Look on me, Patron Saint, with glance benign! An humble follower, I bend the knee, And pray thy knowledge's light may on me shine In all its splendour and intensity! So when in death my icy limbs recline, My name lik'st thine may long remembered be As one who sought the useful to pursue, And ease the pangs his fellow-mortals knew. Yes, let them write upon my lowly grave: “A true Philanthropist is sleeping here!” And I no other recompense will crave To cheer me onward in my future sphere. Such epitaph as that in truth to have Were worth all wealth that man amasses here. High Heaven!--Mock-Bird, the rest must stay unwrit!