Oft when yon moon has climbed the midnight sky
And the lone sea-bird wakes its wildest cry,
Piled on the steep, her blazing fagots burn
To hail the bark that never can return;
And still she waits, but scarce forbears to weep,
That constant love can linger on the deep."
It is, indeed, a touching incident, illustrative not more of the strength of this principle of our nature, than of the benevolence which framed our mental and moral constitution, that when, under the heavy pressure of earthly ills, reason deserts her empire, and leaves the throne of the human mind vacant, Hope still lingers to cheer even the poor maniac, and calmly takes her seat upon that vacant throne, even as the radiant angels sat upon the stone by the door of the empty sepulchre.