Has pride a portion in the parted soul?
Does passion still the formless mind control?
Can gratitude outpant the silent breath,
Or a friend's sorrow pierce the glooms of death?
No, 'tis a spirit's nobler taste of bliss,
That feels the worth it left, in proofs like this;
That not its own applause but thine approves,
Whose practice praises, and whose virtue loves;
Who liv'st to crown departed friends with fame;
Then dying, late, shalt all thou gav'st reclaim.