They who most suffer, value suffering’s pause;
They who but seldom taste the simplest pleasure,
Kneel oftenest to the Giver and the Cause.
Mrs. Norton.
O ye, whose hearts in secret bleed
O’er transient hope, like morning dew,
O’er friendship faithless in your need,
Or love to all its vows untrue,
Who shrink from persecution’s rod,
Or slander’s fang, or treachery’s tone,