He had a vigorous mind, a generous heart,
An innate love of goodness and of truth.
But he was wayward, and he hated tasks.
Such men must have an aim beyond themselves,
Or oft they prove but dreamers. And with such,
Woman's companionship, dependence, love,
Are like the air to fire:--the smouldering flame
Of genius, once aroused, sweeps doubts away,
And brightens hope, till victory is won.

MARGRAVE.
'Twas thus with Bolton. To his keeping given
The weal of one so dear--then he bore on,
Gathering from disappointments fruitful strength,
As winter's snows prepare the earth for harvest.
And when his angel wife was taken from him,
She left him pledges of her love and trust,
A son of noble promise, and a daughter
To nestle, dove-like, in her father's heart,
And keep her place for ever. She is blind!

GODFREY.
I marvel not that Bolton has excelled,
And won a station of the highest trust,
If his warm heart enlisted in the work:
But the small cares, the constant calculations
Required to make, at least to keep, a fortune--
I never should have looked to him for these.

MARGRAVE.