TRIBUTE TO DR. BARCLAY 79 



XXIV 



Yet may tlie image of thy father's face, 



By JNIemory's pencil dash'd upon thy heart, 

 In other years, when thou shalt fondly trace 



Each lineament, the joy of grief impart ; 



And on the wings of Fancy thou shalt dart, 

 Beyond the farthest gleam of eartlily ray, 



To yonder mansions of the blest ; — then start 

 To find thee guideless on life's wildering way. 

 And call upon the God who is the orphan's stay. 



XXV 



Alas, for her whom he has left behind ! 



What language may be found to speak her wo ! 

 To paint the anguish of her wilder'd mind, 



Writhing in agony beneath the blow 



Of fate, which she was doom'd to undergo ? 

 No, not the eagle eye of thought can pry 



Into that bleeding bosom's core to show 

 Its chaos of despair, since burst the tie 

 On which all hopes of earth-born happiness rely. 



