A love of freedom rarely felt,

Of freedom in her regal seat

Of England; not the schoolboy heat, The blind hysterics of the Celt;

And manhood fused with female grace
In such a sort, the child would twine

A trustful hand, unask'd, in thine,
And find his comfort in thy face;

All these have been, and thee mine eyes Have look'd on: if they look'd in vain,

My shame is greater who remain,

Nor let thy wisdom make me wise.

CX.

HY converse drew us with delight,
The men of rathe and riper years:

The feeble soul, a haunt of fears,

Forgot his weakness in thy sight.

On thee the loyal-hearted hung,

The proud was half disarm'd of pride, Nor cared the serpent at thy side To flicker with his double tongue.

The stern were mild when thou wert by,
The flippant put himself to school

And heard thee, and the brazen fool

Was soften'd, and he knew not why

While I, thy dearest, sat apart,

And felt thy triumph was as mine;

And loved them more, that they were thine,

The graceful tact, the Christian art;

Nor mine the sweetness or the skill,

But mine the love that will not tire,

And, born of love, the vague desire

That spurs an imitative will.

CXI.

HE churl in spirit, up or down
Along the scale of ranks, thro' all,
To him who grasps a golden ball,

By blood a king, at heart a clown;

The churl in spirit, howe'er he veil

His want in forms for fashion's sake,

Will let his coltish nature break

At seasons thro' the gilded pale:

For who can always act? but he,

To whom a thousand memories call,

Not being less but more than all

The gentleness he seem'd to be,

Best seem'd the thing he was, and join'd

Each office of the social hour

To noble manners, as the flower

And native growth of noble mind;

Nor ever narrowness or spite,

Or villain fancy fleeting by,

Drew in the expression of an eye, Where God and Nature met in light;

And thus he bore without abuse

The grand old name of gentleman,

Defamed by every charlatan,

And soil'd with all ignoble use.