To find _thee_ ever faithful, kind,
My guard by night, my friend by day,
While those in friendship more refined
Have with my fortunes flown away.

Why bounteous nature hast thou given
To this poor _Brute_--a boon so kind
As constancy--bless'd gift of Heaven!
And MAN--to waver like the wind?



WIDOWED LOVE.[1]

Tell me, chaste spirit! in yon orb of light,
Which seems to wearied souls an ark of rest,
So calm, so peaceful, so divinely bright--
Solace of broken hearts, the mansion of the bless'd!

Tell me, oh! tell me--shall I meet again
The long lost object of my only love!
--This hope but mine, death were release from pain;
Angel of mercy! haste, and waft my soul above!

[Footnote 1: Mr. T. Millar has composed sweet music to these lines, and
has been peculiarly fortunate in composing and singing some of
the exquisite Melodies of T.H. Bayly, Esq. of Bath.]