To pour each inward secret of my soul;
The dear companion of my leisure hours,
Whose cheerful looks, and intellectual powers,
Drove care, anxiety, and doubt away,
And all the fiends that on reflection prey,
Is now no more!—The features of that face
Where glow’d intelligence and manly grace;
Those eyes which flash’d with intellectual fire
Kindled by all that genius could inspire—
Those, those—and all his pleasing powers are fled