3 Spenserians by "Arthur Brooke": "If these be dreams, at least there is one breast | Where, though all fade beside, thy memory still shall rest."
And must Thou sink beneath the storms of Fate,
Ah, gentle heart! so tender and so true!
Who loved me in a world of pain and hate,
And "did for me what none beside would do;"
And though thy sorrows wore as dark a hue,
Met me with smiles — who could no smiles repay,
And to my cold embrace with rapture flew,
Content, if thou couldst charm some cares away,
As on that faithful breast tranquil awhile I lay.
Yes! the world's hardened virtues may look down
On faults like thine with unforgiving eye;
Some saintly Hypocrite austerely frown,
Whose creed affords no place for Charity;
Some scornful sister sweep indignant by,
In self-applause of her own bloodless heart,
Which shuts from Love what thou couldst not deny;—
Such may look on thee suffering, and depart
Haply, "to thank their God they are not as thou art."
But in that page where kindness is recorded,
Shall thy name stand in lines of living light;
And in that hour when goodness is rewarded,
Thou shalt find favour in that Being's sigh
Who will thy pilgrimage on earth requite
With joys immortal, and among the blest
Place thee in bowers of Eden, pure and bright.—
If these be dreams, at least there is one breast
Where, though all fade beside, thy memory still shall rest.