238 CONSOLATIONS OF SOLITUDE
Lifted above all sense of pain, Sorrow and sin alike forgot,—
Then to the sacred past I'll fly. And to long-buried years go back,
In fancied youth will deem thee nigh. And meet thee in each wonted track.
��If, mingled with the viewless wind,
Both soul and sense have ceased to be,
Why, then, farewell — the Muse must find Some moral prototype of thee,
And, since were thine both truth and love, To truth and love shall she appeal ;
Alas ! though truth the sense approve. Love can no more be near to feel.
Howe'er, where'er, whate'er thou art, This tribute take — 'twas thine of old,
And to thine image in my heart I yield it now, since thou art cold.
Although the flame less bright may burn Than when, by youthful impulse fired.
Fancy to friendship's torch could turn, And with new light become inspired, —
Still claim such gifts as Care permits, Since thou art fled, while day by day,
Fixed at my side she mutely sits,
And with the dark hair twines the gray.
Speak, comrade ■ — is there not, in truth. For faithful hearts some hallowed shore
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