THE WIFE OF THOMAS CARLYLE. 177 Enrolled among earth's chosen few, Lovely as morning, pure as dew, Thy image stands before me. U Oh, that on Fame's far shining peak, With great and mighty numbered, Unfading laurels I could seek ; This longing spirit then might speak The thoughts within that slumbered. " Oh, in the battle's wildest swell, By hero's deeds to win thee, To meet the charge, the stormy yell. The artillery's flash, its thundering knell, And thine the light within me. "What man in Fate's dark day of power, While thoughts of thee upbore him, Would shrink at danger's blackest lour, Or faint in Life's last ebbing hour, If tears of thine fell o'er him ? " Irving once married, Miss Welsh viewed her devoted but impracticable suitor in a different light. She recog- nized his genius, she believed in his affection, she was proud of his preference : why not marry him ? She was not, as she frankly told him, in love with him ; yet she loved him, and at last accepted him. Their engagement was stormy. If he made impossible plans for the future, she, with a stroke of satire, a positive No, or an elaborate explanation, upset them. Then he thought she was dis- mayed at the prospect of such a retired life as his profes- sion necessitated, and offered to release her. Then she wrote refusing to be released, soothing and reassuring him, and proposing some other arrangement. Each cheered and encouraged the other to such sacrifices as the circumstances required, and indeed, as Mr. Froude remarks : " They comforted one another as if they were going to execution."
