II.

And therefore, to our hearts, the days gone by,-- When lived the honoured sage whose death we wept, And the soft virtues beamed from many an eye, And beat in many a heart that long has slept,-- Like spots of earth where angel-feet have stepped-- Are holy; and high-dreaming bards have told Of times when worth was crowned, and faith was kept, Ere friendship grew a snare, or love waxed cold-- Those pure and happy times--the golden days of old.