'Tis said a good one;—and I ne'er yet knew
A rough, true soldier, lack humanity:—
If, then, thou canst, with one hand, push aside
The buffets of the world, and, with the other,
Stretch'd forth, in warm and manly charity,
Assist the weak,——be thankful for the ground-work,
And e'en let impulse build upon't;—thou needst
No line, nor level, formal age can give thee,
To raise a noble superstructure. Come;
Embrace me;—when thy father sleeps in honour,