But Virtue, soother of the fiercest pains,
Shall heal that bosom, RUTLAND, where she reigns.
Yet hard the task to heal the bleeding heart,
To bid the still-recurring thoughts depart,
Tame the fierce grief and stem the rising sigh,
And curb rebellious passion, with reply;
Calmly to dwell on all that pleased before,
And yet to know that all shall please no more; -
Oh! glorious labour of the soul, to save
Her captive powers, and bravely mourn the brave.