Saint Charles

'"Saint Charles," said Thackeray to me, thirty years ago, putting one of Charles Lamb's letters to his forehead.' - LETTERS OF EDWARD FITZGERALD.     Saint Charles! ah yes, let other men     Love Elia for his antic pen,     And watch with dilettante eyes     His page for every quaint surprise,     Curious of caviare phrase.     Yea; these who will not also praise?     We surely must, but which is more     The motley that his sorrow wore,     Or the great heart whose valorous beat     Upheld his brave unfaltering feet     Along the narrow path he chose,     And followed faithful to the close?     Yea, Elia, thank thee for thy wit,     How poor our laughter, lacking it!     For all thy gillyflowers of speech     Gramercy, Elia; but most rich     Are we, most holpen, when we meet     Thee and thy Bridget in the street,     Upon that tearful errand set -     So often trod, so patient yet!