Soft pity never leaves the gentle breast Where love has been received, a welcome guest; As wandering saints poor huts have sacred made, He hallows every heart, he once has swayed; And when his presence we no longer share, Still leaves compassion as a relick there.
Sheridan.
They sin who tell us Love can die 1 With life all other passions fly,
All others are but vanity. In heaven ambition cannot dwell Nor avarice in the vaults of hell; Earthly these passions of the earth, They perish where they have their birth;
But Love is indestructible,
Its holy flame for ever burneth, From heaven it came, to heaven returneth;
Too oft on earth a troubled guest,
At times deceived, at times opprest,
It here is tried and purified,
Then hath in heaven its perfect rest:
It soweth here with toil and care, But the harvest time of love is there. Oh ! when a mother meets on high
The babe she lost in infancy, Hath she not then, for pains and fears, The day of woe, the watchful night, For all her sorrows, all her tears, An over payment of delight ? Southey.
