XXXII.

And Nial wept his faithful comrade dead, Like woman wept--nor blame his hero-soul, For many a fervid kindness done and said Rushed o’er his mind, and swept to memory’s goal, Till tears in torrents gushed beyond controul. Oh, tears are generous, noble! Tears became Achilles’ cheek, when Death Patroclus stole; His frame sharp anguish shook who shook the frame Of Troy--nor, Nial, blush that thou didst weep the same!