Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Tear of Sympathy

The Tear of Sympathy.

How lovely shines the liquid pearl, Which trickling from the eye,Pours in a suffering brother's wound, The tear of sympathy!

Its beams a fairer lustre yield Than richest rubies give—Golconda's gems, though bright, are cold— It cheers, and bids us live.

Softer the tones of Friendship's voice, Its words more kindly flows,More grateful in its simplest sound Than all which art bestows.

When torturing anguish racks the soul, When sorrow points its dart;When Death, unerring, aims the blow Which cleaves a brother's heart;

Then, Sympathy! 'tis thine to lull The sufferer's soul to rest;To feel each pang, to share each throb, And ease the troubled breast.

'Tis thine to aid the sinking frame; To raise the feeble hand,To bind the heart by anguish torn, With sweet affection's band.

'Tis thine to cherish Hope's fond smile, To chase affliction's gloom,To mitigate the pains that wait Our passage to the tomb.

Then give me, Heaven, the soul to feel. The hand to mercy prone;The eye with kindly drops that flows For sorrows not my own.

Be mine the cause of Misery's child— Be mine the wish sincere,To pluck the sting that wounds his breast, And heal it with a tear.