CHAPTER XXIV.
"How high the bliss that waits on wedded love,
Best, purest emblem of the bliss above!
To draw new raptures from another's joy;
To share each grief, and half its stings destroy;
Of one fond heart to be the slave and lord;
Bless and be bless'd, adore and be adored:
To own the link of soul, the chain of mind,
Sublimest friendship, passion most refined,—
Passion to life's last evening hour still warm.
And friendship brightest in the darkest storm!"
Prize Poem.
From the late circumstances befalling Douglas, it might seem indeed as if fortune, notwithstanding the many rude calamities he had met with, still regarded him as her favoured child;—to be brought back to Wales at a moment of such extreme necessity to the timely succour of the distressed Rosilia, his mind ever full of her, engaging as she did every thought and faculty of his soul; to be led to the spot to act in her defence when her situation had become so perilous; and after so long an absence from his native country, to return to it at so critical a juncture, to receive the last parting blessing of his brother, his nearest surviving relative.
Though always of a feeble constitution, Lord De-
