TO A FRIEND IN DISTRESS,

“Do I not feel?” The doubt is keen as steel.

Yea, I do feel — most exquisitely feel;

My heart can weep, when, from my downcast eye,

I chase the tear, and stem the rising sigh:

Deep buried there I close the rankling dart,

And smile the most when heaviest is my heart.

On this I act — whatever pangs surround,

‘ Tis magnanimity to hide the wound!

When all was new, and life was in its spring,

I lived an unloved, solitary thing;

Even then I learn'd to bury deep from day

The piercing cares that wore my youth away:

Even then I learn'd for others’ cares to feel;

Even then I wept I had not power to heal:

Even then, deep-sounding through the nightly gloom,

I heard the wretched's groan, and mourn'd the wretched's doom.

Who were my friends in youth?— The midnight fire —

The silent moonbeam, or the starry choir;

To these I‘ plain'd, or turn'd from outer sight,

To bless my lonely taper's friendly light;

I never yet could ask, howe'er forlorn,

For vulgar pity mix'd with vulgar scorn;

The sacred source of woe I never ope,

My breast's my coffer, and my God's my hope.

But that I do feel, Time, my friend, will show,

Though the cold crowd the secret never know;

With them I laugh — yet, when no eye can see,

I weep for nature, and I weep for thee.

Yes, thou didst wrong me,... I fondly thought,

In thee I'd found the friend my heart had sought!

I fondly thought, that thou couldst pierce the guise,

And read the truth that in my bosom lies;

I fondly thought, ere Time's last days were gone,

Thy heart and mine had mingled into one!

Yes — and they yet will mingle. Days and years

Will fly, and leave us partners in our tears:

We then shall feel that friendship has a power

To soothe affliction in her darkest hour;

Time's trial o'er, shall clasp each other's hand,

And wait the passport to a better land.