Nor empty are the honours that we pay br To the departed; our own hearts are fill'd br Brimfull with grateful reminiscences; br Compassion is excited; the most stern br Relent; and better even the best return. br Such, Teresita, were my thoughts, all day, br All night, when thou wert carried to thy home br Eternal, amid tears thou couldst not share, br Thither where none, not even of joy, are shed. br Surrounded with God's own serenity br Is that pure brow rais'd humbly to his throne. br Leaving thy home and those most dear awhile, br Thou, a few months before, wouldst have consoled br My sufferings: Who shall now console thy sire's? br Proud not of victories won in southern climes br And equal laws administer'd, but proud br Of virtues he implanted in his child.