The proud heart is the first to sink before contompt—it feels the wound more keenly than any other can.—Oh, there is nothing in language that can express the deep humiliation of being received with coldness when kindness is expected—of seeing the look, but half concealed, of strong disapprobation from such as we have cause to feel beneath us, not alone in vigour of mind and spirit, but even in virtue and truth. The weak, the base, the hypocrite, are the first to turn with indignation from their fellow mortals in disgrace; and, whilst the really chaste and pure suspect with caution, and censure with mildness, these traffickers in petty sins, who plume themselves upon their immaculate conduct, sound the alarum bell at the approach of guilt, and clamour their anathemas upon their unwary and cowering prey.
Come sleep ! and fold me in thy soft embrace;
Come genial sleep! that sweetest blessing give
To die thus living, and thus dead to live.
But leave—oh leave ! the light of hope behind !
What though my winged hours of bliss have been,
Like angel-visits few and far between;
Her musing mood shall every pang appease,
And charm—when pleasures lose the power to please.
Campbell.
