XV. The bitter frown of friends estranged; The chilling straits of fortune changed; XVI. I never will.-I'll think of thee Till fades the power of memory!— In weal or woe,-in gloom or glee,— I'LL THINK OF THEE!-I'LL THINK OF THEE! A SKETCH FROM REAL LIFE. What now, to her, is all the world esteems? CRABBE. 'Tis said she once was beautiful;-and still (For 'tis not years that can have wrought her ill,)— Deep rays of loveliness around her form Beam, as the rainbow that succeeds the storm, Brightens a glorious ruin. In her face, Though something touched by sorrow, you may trace The all she was, when first in life's young spring, Like the gay bee-bird on delighted wing, She stooped to cull the honey from each flower Her ebon locks are parted, and her brow Stands forth like morning from the shades of night, Patient in suffering, she has learned the art To bleed in silence and conceal the smart ; And thence, though quick of feeling, hath been deemed Almost as cold and loveless as she seemed; Because to fools she never would reveal Wounds they would probe-without the power to heal. No,-whatsoe'er the visions that disturb The fountain of her thoughts, she knows to curb Yet some, perhaps, with keener vision than Reserve and womanly pride are in her look, Though tempered into meekness. She can brook Unkindness and neglect from those she loves, There is a speaking sadness in her air, A hue of languor o'er her features fair, Born of no common grief; as though Despair Had wrestled with her spirit-been o'erthrown,And these the trophies of the strife alone. A resignation of the will, a calm Derived from pure religion (that sweet balm |