Chamomile.... Energy in Adversity.

Italy! Time, which hath wronged thee with ten thousand rents Of thine imperial garment, shall deny, And hath denied, to every other sky, Spirits which soar from ruin:—thy decay Is still impregnate with divinity. Which gilds it with revivifying ray. Byron.

I said to Penury’s meagre train, Come on—your threats I brave; My last poor life-drop you may drain, And crush me to the grave; Yet still the spirit that endures, Shall mock your force the while, And meet each cold, cold grasp of yours With bitter smile. I said to cold Neglect and Scorn, Pass on—I heed you not; Ye may pursue me till my form And being are forgot; Yet still, the spirit which you see Undaunted by your wiles, Draws from its own nobility Its high-born smiles. Mrs. Hale.

When a great mind falls, The noble nature of man’s generous heart Doth bear him up against the shame of ruin, With gentle censure, using but his faults As modest means to introduce his praise; For pity, like a dewy twilight, comes To close th’ oppressive splendour of his day, And they who but admired him in his height His altered state lament, and love him fallen. Joanna Baillie.

Oh, more or less than man—in high or low, Battling with nations, flying from the field; Now making monarchs’ necks thy footstool, now More than thy meanest soldier taught to yield; An empire thou couldst crush, command, rebuild, But govern not thy pettiest passion, nor, However deeply in men’s spirits skilled, Look through thine own, nor curb the lust of war, Nor learn that tempted fate will leave the loftiest star. Yet well thy soul hath brooked the turning tide With that untaught innate philosophy, Which, be it wisdom, coldness, or deep pride, Is gall and wormwood to an enemy. When the whole host of hatred stood hard by, To watch and mock thee shrinking, thou hast smiled With a sedate and all-enduring eye;— When fortune fled her spoiled and favourite child, He stood unbowed beneath the ills upon him piled. Byron.