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!