yet I knew her worth; How oft, tho' nature still the thought endears, Has my worn bosom heav'd its tribute forth.

Whatever I may think of the political conduct of the French Government in the present war, I think this tribute justly due to the individual character of M. de Chateaubriand.

Heaven smil'd on the olive that Reason had rear'd, With her rich pearly tribute sweet Pity appear'd, And plac'd it on each brilliant eye; 'Twas the tear that Compassion had nurs'd in her breast, To bestow on the friend, or the foe, if distress'd.