Deeming it half divine, she could not bear, 

 Her woman's strength gave way, and impious words 

 In her despair she uttered. 

 But her lord 

 To deeper anguish stung by her defect 

 And rash advice, reprovingly replied 

 Pointing to Him who meeteth out below 

 Both good and evil in mysterious love, 

 And she was silenced. 

 What a sacred power 

 Hath hallow'd Friendship o'er the nameless ills 

 That throng our pilgrimage. Its sympathy, 

 Doth undergird the drooping, and uphold 

 The foot that falters in its miry path. 

 It grows more precious, as the hair grows grey. 

 Time's alchymy that rendereth so much dross 

 Back for our gay entrustments, shows more pure 

 The perfect essence of its sanctity, 

 Gold unalloyed. 

 How doth the cordial grasp, 

 Prev. P 23/285 next