Classic Poem

" And this, " quoth he " thou faithful friend,
" I'd gladly share with thee;
" But soon, too soon! has been thy end
" Oppress'd by care and me. "
I thought such tender traits of woe,
Bespoke a parent's care,
'Twas nature bade the current flow
To mourn his ass sincere.

The bridle by his side he laid,
Which e'er anon he view'd,
And then a silent tribute paid,
But still his dirge pursu'd;
Then pensive from his scrip he took
His small, but grateful store,
With anxious grief his head he shook,
His partner was no more!

The hoary stranger's plaintive grief,
So struck the rabble crowd,
That each had profer'd him relief,
He wav'd it and he bow'd.
" Nor wealth, nor splendour now, " he said,
" Can stem the briny tear,
" For oh alas! that friend is dead
" Who sought me far and near. "

" Nor can the Indian's brilliant hue
" For him, to me atone,
" In him I found a friend most true,
" His death I deem my own. "
" Then blest " quoth I, " be thy repose,
" And may you rest in peace,
" If thus we felt each other's woes,
" Affliction soon wou'd cease. "