Nor was all Love shut from him, though his days

Of Passion had consumed themselves to dust.

It is in vain that we would coldly gaze

On such as smile upon us; the heart must

Leap kindly back to kindness, though Disgust[io]

Hath weaned it from all worldlings: thus he felt,

For there was soft Remembrance, and sweet Trust

In one fond breast, to which his own would melt,

And in its tenderer hour on that his bosom dwelt.[304]