CXIV.

I have not loved the World, nor the World me,-- But let us part fair foes; I do believe, Though I have found them not, that there may be Words which are things,--hopes which will not deceive, And Virtues which are merciful, nor weave Snares for the failing; I would also deem O'er others' griefs that some sincerely grieve--[kz][24.B.] That two, or one, are almost what they seem,-- That Goodness is no name--and Happiness no dream.

CXV.[352]

My daughter! with thy name this song begun! My daughter! with thy name thus much shall end!-- I see thee not--I hear thee not--but none Can be so wrapt in thee; Thou art the Friend To whom the shadows of far years extend: Albeit my brow thou never should'st behold, My voice shall with thy future visions blend, And reach into thy heart,--when mine is cold,-- A token and a tone, even from thy father's mould.