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Gone to a friend, she tells me; I commend Her purpose; means she to a female friend? By Heaven, I wish she suffer'd half the pain Of hope protracted through the day in vain :

The young designer, but could only trace
The looks of pity in the traveller's face :
Within, the father, who from fences nigh
Had brought the fuel for the fire's supply,
Watch'd now the feeble blaze, and stood dejected by: Shall I persist to see th' ungrateful maid?

On ragged rug, just borrow'd from the bed,
And by the hand of coarse indulgence fed,
In dirty patchwork negligently dress'd,
Reclined the wife, an infant at her breast;
In her wild face some touch of grace remain'd,
Of vigour palsied and of beauty stain'd;
Her blood-shot eyes on her unheeding mate

Yes, I will see her, slight her, and upbraid:
What! in the very hour? She knew the time,
And doubtless chose it to increase her crime."
Forth rode Orlando by a river's side,
Inland and winding, smooth, and full, and wide,
That roll'd majestic on, in one soft flowing tide;
The bottom gravel, flowery were the banks,

Were wrathful turn'd, and seem'd her wants to Tall willows, waving in their broken ranks;

state,

Pursing his tardy aid-her mother there
With gipsy state engross'd the only chair;
Solemn and dull her look; with such she stands,
And reads the milk-maid's fortune in her hands,
Tracing the lines of life; assumed through years,
Each feature now the steady falsehood wears;
With hard and savage eye she views the food,
And grudging pinches their intruding brood;
Last in the group, the worn-out grandsire sits
Neglected, lost, and living but by fits;
Useless, despised, his worthless labours done,
And half protected by the vicious son,
Who half supports him; he with heavy glance
Views the young ruffians who around him dance;
And, by the sadness in his face, appears
To trace the progress of their future years:
Through what strange course of misery, vice,
deceit,

The road, now near, now distant, winding led
By lovely meadows which the waters fed;
He pass'd the way-side inn, the village spire,
Nor stopp'd to gaze, to question, or admire;
On either side the rural mansions stood,
With hedge-row trees, and hills high-crown'd with
wood,

And many a devious stream that reach'd the nobler
flood.

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"I hate these scenes," Orlando angry cried.

And these proud farmers! yes, I hate their pride:
See! that sleek fellow, how he strides along,
Strong as an ox, and ignorant as strong;
Can yon close crops a single eye detain
But his who counts the profits of the grain?
And these vile beans with deleterious smell,
Where is their beauty? can a mortal tell?
These deep fat meadows I detest; it shocks
One's feelings there to see the grazing ox;-
For slaughter fatted, as a lady's smile
Rejoices man, and means his death the while.

Must wildly wander each unpractised cheat.
What shame and grief, what punishment and pain,
Sport of fierce passions, must each child sustain-Lo! now the sons of labour! every day

Ere they like him approach their latter end,
Without a hope, a comfort, or a friend!

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But this Orlando felt not; "Rogues," said he,

Doubtless they are, but merry rogues they be ;
They wander round the land, and be it true,
They break the laws-then let the laws pursue
The wanton idlers; for the life they live
Acquit I cannot, but I can forgive."

This said, a portion from his purse was thrown,
And every heart seem'd happy like his own.

He hurried forth, for now the town was nigh-
"The happiest man of mortal men am I."
Thou art! but change in every state is near,
(So while the wretched hope, the blest may fear ;)
"Say, where is Laura ?"-"That her words must
show,"

A lass replied; " read this, and thou shalt know!" "What, gone!"-her friend insisted-forced to

go:

"Is vex'd, was teased, could not refuse her!-No?"
But you can follow." "Yes?" "The miles are
few,

The way is pleasant; will you come? Adieu!
Thy Laura!"--" No! I feel I must resign
The pleasing hope, thou hadst been here, if mine:
A lady was it? Was no brother there?
But why should I afflict me if there were ?"
"The way is pleasant."-" What to me the way?
cannot reach her till the close of day.
My dumb companion! is it thus we speed?
Not I from grief nor thou from toil art freed;
Still art thou doom'd to travel and to pine,
For my vexation-What a fate is mine!

Employ'd in toil, and vex'd in every way;
Theirs is but mirth assumed, and they conceal,
In their affected joys, the ills they feel:

I hate these long green lanes; there's nothing

seen

In this vile country but eternal green;
Woods! waters! meadows! Will they never end?
"Tis a vile prospect. Gone to see a friend!"

Still on he rode! a mansion fair and tall
Rose on his view-the pride of Loddon Hall:
Spread o'er the park he saw the grazing steer,
The full-fed steed, the herds of bounding deer :
On a clear stream the vivid sunbeams play'd,
Through noble elms, and on the surface made
That moving picture, checker'd light and shade ;
Th' attended children, there indulged to stray,
Enjoy'd and gave new beauty to the day;
Whose happy parents from their room were seen
Pleased with the sportive idlers on the green.

"Well!" said Orlando, " and for one so bless'd,
A thousand reasoning wretches are distress'd;
Nay, these so seeming glad, are grieving like the

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Our traveller, labouring up a hill, look'd down Upon a lively, busy, pleasant town; All he beheld were there alert, alive, The busiest bees that ever stock'd a hive: A pair were married, and the bells aloud Proclaim'd their joy, and joyful seem'd the crowd; And now proceeding on his way, he spied, Bound by strong ties, the bridegroom and the bride :

Each by some friends attended, near they drew, And spleen beheld them with prophetic view.

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Married! nay, mad!" Orlando cried in scorn;
Another wretch on this unlucky morn:

What are this foolish mirth, these idle joys?
Attempts to stifle doubt and fear by noise:
To me these robes, expressive of delight,
Foreshow distress, and only grief excite;
And for these cheerful friends, will they behold
Their wailing brood in sickness, want, and cold;
And his proud look, and her soft languid air
Will-but I spare you-go, unhappy pair!"

And now approaching to the journey's end,
His anger fails, his thoughts to kindness tend,
He less offended feels, and rather fears t' offend:
Now gently rising, hope contends with doubt,
And casts a sunshine on the views without;
And still reviving joy and lingering gloom
Alternate empire o'er his soul assume;
Till, long perplex'd, he now began to find
The softer thoughts engross the settling mind:
He saw the mansion, and should quickly see
His Laura's self-and angry could he be ?
No! the resentment melted all away.
"For this my grief a single smile will pay,"
Our traveller cried; "and why should it offend,
That one so good should have a pressing friend?
Grieve not, my heart! to find a favourite guest
Thy pride and boast-ye selfish sorrows, rest;
She will be kind, and I again be blest."

While gentler passions thus his bosom sway'd, He reach'd the mansion, and he saw the maid; "My Laura!"—“My Orlando! this is kind; In truth I came persuaded, not inclined: Our friends' amusement let us now pursue, And I to-morrow will return with you."

Like man entranced, the happy lover stood"As Laura wills, for she is kind and good: Ever the truest, gentlest, fairest, bestAs Laura wills, I see her and am blest." Home went the lovers through that busy place, By Loddon Hall, the country's pride and grace; By the rich meadows where the oxen fed, [bed; Through the green vale that form'd the river's And by unnumber'd cottages and farms, That have for musing minds unnumber'd charms; And how affected by the view of these Was then Orlando-did they pain or please?

Nor pain nor pleasure could they yield-and why?

The mind was fill'd, was happy, and the eye Roved o'er the fleeting views, that but appear'd to die.

Alone Orlando on the morrow paced The well-known road; the gipsy tent he traced; The dam high-raised, the reedy dikes between, The scatter'd hovels on the barren green, The burning sand, the fields of thin-set rye, Mock'd by the useless Flora, blooming by;

And last the heath with all its various bloom,
And the close lanes that led the traveller home.
Then could these scenes the former joys renew?
Or was there now dejection in the view?
Nor one or other would they yield-and why?
The mind was absent, and the vacant eye
Wander'd o'er viewless scenes, that but appear'd
to die.

TALE XI.

EDWARD SHORE.

Seem they grave or learned?

Why, so didst thou-Seem they religious?
Why, so didst thou; or are they spare in diet,
Free from gross passion, or of mirth or anger,
Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood,
Garnish'd and deck'd in modest compliment,
Not working with the eye without the ear,
And but with purged judgment trusting neither ?
Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem.
Henry V. act ii. sc. 2.

Better I were distract,

So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs,
And woes by strong imagination lose
The knowledge of themselves.

Lear, act iv. sc. 6.

GENIUS! thou gift of Heaven! thou light divine!
Amid what dangers art thou doom'd to shine!
Oft will the body's weakness check thy force,
Oft damp thy vigour, and impede thy course;
And trembling nerves compel thee to restrain
Thy nobler efforts, to contend with pain;
Or Want (sad guest!) will in thy presence come,
And breathe around a melancholy gloom;
To life's low cares will thy proud thought confine,
And make her sufferings, her impatience, thine.

Evil and strong, seducing passions prey
On soaring minds, and win them from their way;
Who then to vice the subject spirits give,
And in the service of the conqueror live;
Like captive Samson making sport for all
Who fear'd their strength, and glory in their fall.
Genius, with virtue, still may lack the aid
Implored by humble minds and hearts afraid;
May leave to timid souls the shield and sword
Of the tried faith, and the resistless word;
Amid a world of dangers venturing forth,
Frail, but yet fearless, proud in conscious worth,
Till strong temptation, in some fatal time,
Assails the heart, and wins the soul to crime;
When left by honour, and by sorrow spent,
Unused to pray, unable to repent,
The nobler powers that once exalted high
Th' aspiring man, shall then degraded lie:
Reason, through anguish, shall her throne forsake,
And strength of mind but stronger madness make.
When Edward Shore had reach'd his twentieth

year,

He felt his bosom light, his conscience clear;
Applause at school the youthful hero gain'd,
And trials there with manly strength sustain'd:
With prospects bright upon the world he came,
Pure love of virtue, strong desire of fame :
Men watch'd the way his lofty mind would take,
And all foretold the progress he would make.

Boast of these friends, to older men a guide,
Proud of his parts, but gracious in his pride;
He bore a gay good nature in his face,
And in his air were dignity and grace;
Dress that became his state and years he wore,
And sense and spirit shone in Edward Shore.

Thus while admiring friends the youth beheld,
His own disgust their forward hopes repell'd;
For he unfix'd, unfixing, look'd around,
And no employment but in seeking found;
He gave his restless thoughts to views refined,
And shrank from worldly cares with wounded
mind.

Rejecting trade, a while he dwelt on laws, "But who could plead, if unapproved the cause?" A doubting, dismal tribe physicians seem'd ; Divines o'er texts and disputations dream'd; War and its glory he perhaps could love, But there again he must the cause approve.

Our hero thought no deed should gain applause, Where timid virtue found support in laws; He to all good would soar, would fly all sin, By the pure prompting of the will within;

66

Who needs a law that binds him not to steal," Ask'd the young teacher, " can he rightly feel? To curb the will, or arm in honour's cause, Or aid the weak, are these enforced by laws? Should we a foul, ungenerous action dread, Because a law condemns th' adulterous bed? Or fly pollution, not for fear of stain, But that some statute tells us to refrain? The grosser herd in ties like these we bind, In virtue's freedom moves th' enlighten'd mind." Man's heart deceives him," said a friend. course,"

44

"Of

Replied the youth, " but, has it power to force?
Unless it forces, call it as you will,
It is but wish and proneness to the ill."

"Art thou not tempted ?"-"Do I fall?" said Shore.
"The pure have fallen."-"Then are pure no more:
While reason guides me, I shall walk aright,
Nor need a steadier hand, or stronger light;
Nor this in dread of awful threats, design'd
For the weak spirit and the grovelling mind;
But that, engaged by thoughts and views sublime,
I wage free war with grossness and with crime."
Thus look'd he proudly on the vulgar crew,
Whom statutes govern, and whom fears subdue.
Faith, with his virtue, he indeed profess'd,
But doubts deprived his ardent mind of rest;
Reason, his sovereign mistress, fail'd to show
Light through the mazes of the world below;
Questions arose, and they surpass'd the skill
Of his sole aid, and would be dubious still;
These to discuss he sought no common guide,
But to the doubters in his doubts applied;
When all together might in freedom speak,
And their loved truth with mutual ardour seek.
Alas! though men who feel their eyes decay,
Take more than common pains to find their way,
Yet, when for this they ask each other's aid,
Their mutual purpose is the more delay'd:
Of all their doubts, their reasoning clear'd not one,
Still the same spots were present in the sun;
Still the same scruples haunted Edward's mind,
Who found no rest, nor took the means to find.
But though with shaken faith, and slave to fame,
Vain and aspiring on the world he came ;

Yet was he studious, serious, moral, grave,
No passion's victim, and no system's slave;
Vice he opposed, indulgence he disdain'd,
And o'er each sense in conscious triumph reign'd.

Who often reads will sometimes wish to write,
And Shore would yield instruction and delight:
A serious drama he design'd, but found
"Twas tedious travelling in that gloomy ground;
A deep and solemn story he would try,
But grew ashamed of ghosts, and laid it by;
Sermons he wrote, but they who knew his creed,
Or knew it not, were ill disposed to read ;
And he would lastly be the nation's guide,
But, studying, fail'd to fix upon a side;
Fame he desired, and talents he possess'd,
But loved not labour, though he could not rest,
Nor firmly fix the vacillating mind,
That, ever working, could no centre find.

"Tis thus a sanguine reader loves to trace
The Nile forth rushing on his glorious race;
Calm and secure the fancied traveller goes,
Through sterile deserts and by threatening foes;
He thinks not then of Afric's scorching sands,
Th' Arabian sea, the Abyssinian bands;
Fasils and Michaels, and the robbers all,
Whom we politely chiefs and heroes call:
He of success alone delights to think,
He views that fount, he stands upon the brink,
And drinks a fancied draught, exulting so to drink.
In his own room, and with his books around,
His lively mind its chief employment found;
Then idly busy, quietly employ'd,

And, lost to life, his visions were enjoy'd ;
Yet still he took a keen, inquiring view
Of all that crowds neglect, desire, pursue;
And thus abstracted, curious, still serene,
He, unemploy'd, beheld life's shifting scene;
Still more averse from vulgar joys and cares.
Still more unfitted for the world's affairs.

There was a house where Edward ofttimes went,
And social hours in pleasant trifling spent ;
He read, conversed and reason'd, sang and play'd,
And all were happy while the idler stay'd;
Too happy one, for thence arose the pain,
Till this engaging trifler came again.

But did he love? We answer, day by day, The loving feet would take th' accustom'd way, The amorous eye would rove as if in quest Of something rare, and on the mansion rest; The same soft passion touch'd the gentle tongue, And Anna's charms in tender notes were sung; The ear, too, seem'd to feel the common flame, Soothed and delighted with the fair one's name : And thus as love each other part possess'd, The heart, no doubt, its sovereign power confess'd. Pleased in her sight, the youth required no more; Nor rich himself, he saw the damsel poor; And he too wisely, nay, too kindly loved, To pain the being whom his soul approved.

Fasil was a rebel chief, and Michael the general of the royal army in Abyssinia, when Mr. Bruce visited that country. In all other respects their characters were nearly similar. They are both represented as cruel and treacherous; and even the apparently strong distinction of loyal and rebellious is in a great measure set aside when we are informed that Fasil was an open enemy, and Michael an insolent and ambitious controller of the royal person and family.

A serious friend our cautious youth possess'd, And at his table sat a welcome guest; Both unemploy'd, it was their chief delight To read what free and daring authors write; Authors who loved from common views to soar, And seek the fountains never traced before; Truth they profess'd, yet often left the true And beaten prospect, for the wild and new. His chosen friend his fiftieth year had seen, His fortune easy, and his air serene; Deist and atheist call'd; for few agreed What were his notions, principles, or creed; His mind reposed not, for he hated rest, But all things made a query or a jest ; Perplex'd himself, he ever sought to prove That man is doom'd in endless doubt to rove; Himself in darkness he profess'd to be, And would maintain that not a man could see. The youthful friend, dissentient, reason'd still Of the soul's prowess, and the subject will; Of virtue's beauty, and of honour's force, And a warm zeal gave life to his discourse: Since from his feelings all his fire arose, And he had interest in the themes he chose.

The friend, indulging a sarcastic smile, Said, "Dear enthusiast! thou wilt change thy style, When man's delusions, errors, crimes, deceit, No more distress thee, and no longer cheat."

Yet lo! this cautious man, so coolly wise. On a young beauty fix'd unguarded eyes; And her he married: Edward at the view Bade to his cheerful visits long adieu; But haply err'd, for this engaging bride No mirth suppress'd, but rather cause supplied: And when she saw the friends, by reasoning long, Confused if right, and positive if wrong, With playful speech and smile, that spoke delight, She made them careless both of wrong or right.

This gentle damsel gave consent to wed,
With school, and school-day dinners in her head :
She now was promised choice of daintiest food,
And costly dress, that made her sovereign good;
With walks on hilly heath to banish spleen,
And summer visits when the roads were clean.
All these she loved, to these she gave consent,
And she was married to her heart's content.

Their manner this; the friends together read,
Till books a cause for disputation bred;
Debate then follow'd, and the vapour'd child
Declared they argued till her head was wild;
And strange to her it was that mortal brain
Could seek the trial, or endure the pain.

Then as the friend reposed, the younger pair
Sat down to cards, and play'd beside his chair;
Till he, awaking, to his books applied,
Or heard the music of th' obedient bride;
If mild the evening, in the fields they stray'd,
And their own flock with partial eye survey'd ;
But oft the husband, to indulgence prone,
Resumed his book, and bade them walk alone.
"Do, my kind Edward! I must take mine ease,
Name the dear girl the planets and the trees;
Tell her what warblers pour their evening song,
What insects flutter, as you walk along ;
Teach her to fix the roving thoughts, to bind
The wandering sense, and methodize the mind."
This was obey'd; and oft when this was done,
They calmly gazed on the declining sun;

In silence saw the glowing landscape fade,
Or, sitting, sang beneath the arbour's shade :
Till rose the moon, and on each youthful face
Shed a soft beauty, and a dangerous grace.

When the young wife beheld in long debate
The friends, all careless as she seeming sate;
It soon appear'd, there was in one combined
The nobler person and the richer mind;
He wore no wig, no grizzly beard was seen,
And none beheld him careless or unclean;
Or watch'd him sleeping: we indeed have heard
Of sleeping beauty, and it has appear'd;
"Tis seen in infants; there indeed we find
The features soften'd by the slumbering mind;
But other beauties, when disposed to sleep,
Should from the eye of keen inspector keep;
The lovely nymph who would her swain surprise
May close her mouth, but not conceal her eyes;
Sleep from the fairest face some beauty takes,
And all the homely features homelier makes;
So thought our wife, beholding with a sigh
Her sleeping spouse, and Edward smiling by.
A sick relation for the husband sent,
Without delay the friendly skeptic went;
Nor fear'd the youthful pair, for he had seen
The wife untroubled, and the friend serene ;
No selfish purpose in his roving eyes,
No vile deception in her fond replies:
So judged the husband, and with judgment true,
| For neither yet the guilt or danger knew.
What now remain'd? but they again should play
Th' accustom'd game, and walk th' accustom'd
way;

With careless freedom should converse or read,
And the friend's absence neither fear nor heed;
But rather now they seem'd confused, constrain'd,
Within their room still restless they remain'd,
And painfully they felt, and knew each other
pain'd.--

Ah! foolish men! how could ye thus depend,
One on himself, the other on his friend?

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The youth with troubled eye the lady saw, Yet felt too brave, too daring to withdraw; While she, with tuneless hand the jarring keys Touching, was not one moment at her ease: Now would she walk, and call her friendly guide Now speak of rain, and cast her cloak aside Seize on a book, unconscious what she read, And, restless still, to new resources fled; Then laugh'd aloud, then tried to look serene, And ever changed, and every change was seen. Painful it is to dwell on deeds of shame; The trying day was past, another came; The third was all remorse, confusion, dread, And, (all too late!) the fallen hero fled.

Then felt the youth, in that seducing time, How feebly honour guards the heart from crime: Small is his native strength; man needs the stay, The strength imparted in the trying day; For all that honour brings against the force Of headlong passion, aids its rapid course; Its slight resistance but provokes the fire, As wood-work stops the flame, and then conveys it higher.

The husband came; a wife by guilt made bold, Had, meeting, soothed him, as in days of old; But soon this fact transpired; her strong distress, And his friend's absence, left him naught to guess.

Still cool, though grieved, thus prudence bade Superior natures with their puppets play,

him write

"I cannot pardon, and I will not fight;
Thou art too poor a culprit for the laws,
And I too faulty to support my cause;
All must be punish'd; I must sigh alone,
At home thy victim for her guilt atone;
And thou, unhappy! virtuous now no more,
Must loss of fame, peace, purity deplore;
Sinners with praise will pierce thee to the heart,
And saints, deriding, tell thee what thou art."

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Such was his fall; and Edward, from that time, Felt in full force the censure and the crime; Despised, ashamed; his noble views before, And his proud thoughts, degraded him the more; Should he repent-would that conceal his shame ? Could peace be his? It perish'd with his fame: Himself he scorn'd, nor could his crime forgive; He fear'd to die, yet felt ashamed to live: Grieved, but not contrite, was his heart; oppress'd, Not broken; not converted, but distress'd; He wanted will to bend the stubborn knee, He wanted light the cause of ill to see, To learn how frail is man, how humble then should For faith he had not, or a faith too weak To gain the help that humbled sinners seek; Else had he pray'd-to an offended God His tears had flown a penitential flood; Though far astray, he would have heard the call Of mercy-" Come! return, thou prodigal;" Then, though confused, distress'd, ashamed, afraid, Still had the trembling penitent obey'd; Though faith have fainted, when assail'd by fear, Hope to the soul had whisper'd, "Persevere!" Till in his Father's house an humbled guest, He would have found forgiveness, comfort, rest. But all this joy was to our youth denied By his fierce passions and his daring pride. And shame and doubt impell'd him in a course, Once so abhorr'd, with unresisted force. Proud minds and guilty, whom their crimes oppress, Fly to new crimes for comfort and redress; So found our fallen youth a short relief In wine, the opiate guilt applies to grief,From fleeting mirth that o'er the bottle lives, From the false joy its inspiration gives; And from associates pleased to find a friend, With powers to lead them, gladden, and defend, In all those scenes where transient ease is found, For minds whom sins oppress, and sorrows wound. Wine is like anger; for it makes us strong, Blind, and impatient, and it leads us wrong; The strength is quickly lost, we feel the error long: Thus led, thus strengthen'd in an evil cause, For folly pleading, sought the youth applause; Sad for a time, then eloquently wild, He gayly spoke as his companions smiled; Lightly he rose, and with his former grace Proposed some doubt, and argued on the case; Fate and foreknowledge were his favourite themes, How vain man's purpose, how absurd his schemes; "Whatever is, was ere our birth decreed; We think our actions from ourselves proceed, And idly we lament th' inevitable deed; It seems our own, but there's a power above Directs the motion, nay, that makes us move; Nor good nor evil can you beings name, Who are but rooks and castles in the game;

Till, bagg'd or buried, all are swept away."

Such were the notions of a mind to ill
Now prone, but ardent and determined still:
Of joy now eager, as before of fame,
And screen'd by folly when assail'd by shame,
Deeply he sank; obey'd each passion's call,
And used his reason to defend them all.

Shall I proceed, and step by step relate
The odious progress of a sinner's fate?
No-let me rather hasten to the time
(Sure to arrive) when misery waits on crime.

With virtue, prudence fled; what Shore possess d
Was sold, was spent, and he was now distress'd:
And Want, unwelcome stranger, pale and wan,
Met with her haggard looks the hurried man ;
His pride felt keenly what he must expect
From useless pity and from cold neglect.

Struck by new terrors, from his friends he fled,
And wept his woes upon a restless bed;
Retiring late, at early hour to rise,

With shrunken features, and with bloodshot eyes:
If sleep one moment closed the dismal view,
Fancy her terrors built upon the true;
And night and day had their alternate woes,
That baffled pleasure, and that mock'd repose;
Till to despair and anguish was consign'd
The wreck and ruin of a noble mind.

Now seized for debt, and lodged within a jail,
He tried his friendships, and he found them fail;
Then fail'd his spirits, and his thoughts were all
Fix'd on his sins, his sufferings, and his fall:
His ruffled mind was pictured in his face,
Once the fair seat of dignity and grace:
Great was the danger of a man so prone
To think of madness, and to think alone;
Yet pride still lived, and struggled to sustain
The drooping spirit and the roving brain;
But this too fail'd: a friend his freedom gave,
And sent him help the threatening world to brave;
Gave solid counsel what to seek or flee,
But still would stranger to his person be:
In vain the truth determined to explore,
He traced the friend whom he had wrong'd before.
This was too much; both aided and advised
By one who shunn'd him, pitied, and despised:
He bore it not; 'twas a deciding stroke,
And on his reason like a torrent broke:
In dreadful stillness he appear'd a while,
With vacant horror and a ghastly smile;
Then rose at once into the frantic rage,
That force controll'd not, nor could love assuage.
Friends now appear'd, but in the man was seen
The angry maniac, with vindictive mien ;
Too late their pity gave to care and skill
The hurried mind and ever-wandering will;
Unnoticed pass'd all time, and not a ray
Of reason broke on his benighted way;
But now he spurn'd the straw in pure disdain,
And now langh'd loudly at the clinking chain.
Then as its wrath subsided, by degrees
The mind sank slowly to infantine ease;
To playful folly, and to causeless joy,
Speech without aim, and without end, employ;
He drew fantastic figures on the wall,
And gave some wild relation of them all;
With brutal shape he join'd the human face,
And idiot smiles approved the motley race.

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