TRIBUTE TO DR. BARCLAY 77 



XIX 



Friend of my heart ! hast thou for ever fled ? 



Ah ! fondly could my swelling heart believe 

 That he who now is number'd with the dead, 



For whose harsh doom, though that of Heaven, I 

 grieve, 



Yet breath'd : but hope no longer may deceive ; 

 And slowly mouldering in the silent earth, 



The prey of death, now chill'd beyond reprieve, 

 Is that once glowing breast of truth and worth, 

 Which sympathis'd with sorrow, join'd in social mirth. 



xx 



Calm and compos'd, no passion's fiery sway 

 Left its deep furrows on his beaming face ; 



Grave without gloom, and innocently gay, 



The smile upon his dimpling cheek would chase 

 The frown of wisdom ; and although the trace 



Of thought upon his placid brow was seen, 



No harshness with it mix'd, but from the grace 



Which beam'd in every feature you might glean 

 Knowledge of mind array 'd in virtue's dazzling sheen. 



XXI 



Rich were the treasures of his cultur'd mind ; 



For Learning there her various stores had pil'd, 

 Glean'd from each mine of thought, drossless, refin'd, 



