I doubted:-fool I was to doubt!
If that all-piercing eye could see,—
If He who looks all worlds throughout,
Would so minute and careful be,
As to perceive and punish me :—
With man I would be great and high,
But with my God so lost, that He,

In his large view, should pass me by.

Thus blest with children, friend, and wife,
Blest far beyond the vulgar lot;
Of all that gladdens human life,
Where was the good, that I had not?
But my vile heart had sinful spot,
And Heaven beheld its deep'ning stain,
Eternal justice I forgot,

And mercy sought not to obtain.

Come near, I'll softly speak the rest!Alas! 'tis known to all the crowd, Her guilty love was all confess'd;

And his, who so much truth avow'd, My faithless friend's. In pleasure proud I sat, when these curs'd tidings came; Their guilt, their flight was told aloud,

And envy smil'd to hear my shame!

I call'd on Vengeance; at the word

She came :-Can I the deed forget? I held the sword, th' accursed sword, The blood of his false heart made wet: And that fair victim paid her debt, She pin'd, she died, she loath'd to live;— I saw her dying-see her yet:

Fair fallen thing! my rage forgive!

Those cherubs still, my life to bless,

Were left could I my fears remove, Sad fears that check'd each fond caress, And poison'd all parental love? Yet that with jealous feelings strove,

And would at last have won my will, Had I not, wretch! been doom'd to prove Th' extremes of mortal good and ill.

In youth! health! joy! in beauty's pride!
They droop'd: as flowers when blighted bow,
The dire infection came:-They died,

And I was curs'd-as I am now-
Nay, frown not, angry friend,-allow
That I was deeply, sorely tried;
Hear then, and you must wonder how
I could such storms and strifes abide.

Storms!-not that clouds embattled make,
When they afflict this earthly globe;
But such as with their terrors shake
Man's breast, and to the bottom probe;
They make the hypocrite disrobe,
They try us all, if false or true;
For this, one devil had pow'r on Job;
And I was long the slave of two.

Physician.

Peace, peace, my friend; these subjects fly; Collect thy thoughts-go calmly on.

Patient.

And shall I then the fact deny?

I was, thou know'st,-I was begone, Like him who fill'd the eastern throne,

To whom the watcher cried aloud; That royal wretch of Babylon,

Who was so guilty and so proud.

Like him, with haughty, stubborn mind, I, in my state, my comforts sought; Delight and praise I hop'd to find,

In what I builded, planted, bought! Oh! arrogance! by misery taught

Soon came a voice; I felt it come; "Full be his cup, with evil fraught,

Demons his guides, and death his doom!" Then was I cast from out my state;

Two fiends of darkness led my way; They wak'd me early, watch'd me late,

My dread by night, my plague by day! Oh! I was made their sport, their play, Through many a stormy troubled year; And how they us'd their passive prey,

Is sad to tell:-but you shall hear.

And first, before they sent me forth,

Through this unpitying world to run, They robb'd Sir Eustace of his worth,

Lands, manors, lordships, every one; So was that gracious man undone,

Was spurn'd as vile, was scorn'd as poor, Whom every former friend would shun, And menials drove from every door.

Then those ill-favour'd Ones, whom none

But my unhappy eyes could view, Led me, with wild emotion, on,

And with resistless terror, drew. Through lands we fled, o'er seas we flew, And halted on a boundless plain; Where nothing fed, nor breath'd, nor grew, But silence rul'd the still domain.

Upon that boundless plain, below,

The setting sun's last rays were shed, And gave a mild and sober glow,

Where all were still, asleep or dead; Vast ruins in the midst were spread,

Pillars and pediments sublime, Where the grey moss had form'd a bed,

And cloth'd the crumbling spoils of time. There was I fix'd, I know not how,

Condemn'd for untold years to stay: Yet years were not;-one dreadful Now Endur'd no change of night or day; The same mild evening's sleeping ray Shone softly-solemn and serene,

And all that time, I gaz'd away,

The setting sun's sad rays were seen.

At length a moment's sleep stole on,—
Again came my commission'd foes;
Again through sea and land we're gone,
No peace, no respite, no repose:
Above the dark broad sea we rose,

We ran through bleak and frozen land; I had no strength, their strength t' oppose, An infant in a giant's hand.

They plac'd me where those streamers play,
Those nimble beams of brilliant light;
It would the stoutest heart dismay,

To see, to feel, that dreadful sight:
So swift, so pure, so cold, so bright,
They pierc'd my frame with icy wound,
And all that half-year's polar night,
Those dancing streamers_wrapt me round.
Slowly that darkness pass'd away,

When down upon the earth I fell,Some hurried sleep was mine by day; But, soon as toll'd the evening bell, They forc'd me on, wherever dwell Far-distant men in cities fair, Cities of whom no trav'llers tell,

Nor feet but mine were wanderers there.

Their watchmen stare, and stand aghast,
As on we hurry through the dark;
The watch-light blinks, as we go past,

The watch-dog shrinks and fears to bark;
The watch-tower's bell sounds shrill; and, hark!

The free wind blows-we've left the town

A wide sepulchral ground I mark,

And on a tombstone place me down.

What monuments of mighty dead!

What tombs of various kinds are found! And stones erect their shadows shed

On humble graves, with wickers bound; Some risen fresh, above the ground,

Some level with the native clay, What sleeping millions wait the sound, "Arise, ye dead, and come away!"

Alas! they stay not for that call;

Spare me this woe! ye Demons spare!They come! the shrowded shadows all,'Tis more than mortal brain can bear; Rustling they rise, they sternly glare

At man upheld by vital breath;
Who, led by wicked fiends, should dare
To join the shadowy troops of death!

Yes! I have felt all man can feel,

Till he shall pay his nature's debt; Ills that no hope has strength to heal, No mind the comfort to forget: Whatever cares the heart can fret,

The spirits wear, the temper gall, Woe, want, dread, anguish, all beset My sinful soul!—together all!

Those fiends upon a shaking fen

Fix'd me in dark tempestuous night; There never trod the foot of men,

There flock'd the fowl in wint'ry flight; There danc'd the moor's deceitful light, Above the pool where sedges grow; And when the morning sun shone bright,

It shone upon a field of snow.

They hung me on a bough, so small,

The rook could build her nest no higher; They fix'd me on the trembling ball, That crowns the steeple's quiv'ring spire; They set me where the seas retire,

But drown with their returning tide; And made me flee the mountain's fire, When rolling from its burning side.

I've hung upon the ridgy steep

Of cliffs, and held the rambling brier;
I've plung'd below the billowy deep,
Where air was sent me to respire;
I've been where hungry wolves retire;
And (to complete my woes) I've ran
Where Bedlam's crazy crew conspire

Against the life of reasoning man.
I've furl'd in storms the flapping sail,

By hanging from the top-mast-head; I've serv'd the vilest slaves in jail,

And pick'd the dunghill's spoil for bread;
I've made the badger's hole my bed,
I've wander'd with a gipsy crew;

I've dreaded all the guilty dread,
And done what they would fear to do.

On sand where ebbs and flows the flood,
Midway they plac'd and bade me die;
Propt on my staff, I stoutly stood

When the swift waves came rolling by; And high they rose, and still more high, Till my lips drank the bitter brine;

I sobb'd convuls'd, then cast mine eye
And saw the tide's re-flowing sign.

And then, my dreams were such as nought
Could yield but my unhappy case;
I've been of thousand devils caught,
And thrust into that horrid place,
Where reign dismay, despair, disgrace;
Furies with iron fangs were there,
To torture that accursed race,

Doom'd to dismay, disgrace, despair.

Harmless I was; yet hunted down
For treasons, to my soul unfit;
I've been pursu'd through many a town,
For crimes that petty knaves commit;
I've been adjudg'd t' have lost my wit,
Because I preach'd so loud and well,
And thrown into the dungeon's pit,

For trampling on the pit of hell.
Such were the evils, man of sin,
That I was fated to sustain;

Come hear how thus the charmers cry To wandering sheep, the strays of sin; While some the wicket-gate pass by,

And some will knock and enter in: Full joyful 'tis a soul to win,

For he that winneth souls is wise; Now hark! the holy strains begin,

And thus the sainted preacher cries:"Pilgrim, burthen'd with thy sin, "Come the way to Zion's gate, "There, till mercy let thee in, "Knock and weep and watch and wait.

"Knock!-He knows the sinner's cry:
"Weep!-He loves the mourner's tears:
"Watch!-for saving grace
is nigh:
"Wait,-till heavenly light appears.

"Hark! it is the bridegroom's voice;
"Welcome, pilgrim, to thy rest;
"Now within the gate rejoice,

"Safe and seal'd and bought and blest!
"Safe-from all the lures of vice,
"Seal'd-by signs the chosen know,
Bought by love, and life the price,
"Blest-the mighty debt to owe.

"Holy Pilgrim! what for thee, "In a world like this remain? "From thy guarded breast shall flee, "Fear and shame and doubt and pain. "Fear-the hope of Heaven shall fly, "Shame-from glory's view retire, "Doubt-in certain rapture die, "Pain-in endless bliss expire." But though my day of grace was come, Yet still my days of grief I find; The former clouds' collected gloom Still sadden the reflecting mind; The soul, to evil things consign'd,

Will of their evil some retain; The man will seem to earth inclin'd, And will not look erect again.

Thus, though elect, I feel it hard,

To lose what I possess'd before,
To be from all my wealth debarr'd,—

The brave Sir Eustace is no more:

But old I wax and passing poor,

Stern, rugged men my conduct view, They chide my wish, they bar my door,

"Tis hard-I weep-you see I do.

Must you, my friends, no longer stay?
Thus quickly all my pleasures end!
But I'll remember, when I pray,

My kind physician and his friend; And those sad hours, you deign to spend With me, I shall requite them all;

Sir Eustace for his friends shall send, And thank their love at Greyling Hall.

Visitor.

The poor Sir Eustace!-Yet his hope
Leads him to think of joys again;
And when his earthly visions droop,

His views of heavenly kind remain:—
But whence that meek and humbled strain,
That spirit wounded, lost, resign'd;
Would not so proud a soul disdain
The madness of the poorest mind?

Physician.

No! for the more he swell'd with pride,
The more he felt misfortune's blow;
Disgrace and grief he could not hide,
And poverty had laid him low:
Thus shame and sorrow working slow,
At length this humble spirit gave;
Madness on these began to grow,

And bound him to his fiends a slave.

Though the wild thoughts had touch'd his brain, Then was he free:-So, forth he ran;

To soothe or threat, alike were vain:

He spake of fiends; look'd wild and wan; Year after year, the hurried man

Obey'd those fiends from place to place; Till his religious change began

To form a frenzied child of grace.

For, as the fury lost its strength,

The mind repos'd; by slow degrees, Came lingering hope, and brought at length, To the tormented spirit, ease:

This slave of sin, whom fiends could seize,

Felt or believ'd their power had end;""Tis faith," he cried, " my bosom frees, "And now my Saviour is my friend."

But ah! though time can yield relief,
And soften woes it cannot cure;
Would we not suffer pain and grief,

To have our reason sound and sure?
Then let us keep our bosoms pure,

Our fancy's favourite flights suppress; Prepare the body to endure,

And bend the mind to meet distress; And then His guardian care implore, Whom demons dread and men adore.

And shepherds pen their folds, and rest upon their crook.

We prune our hedges, prime our slender trees, And nothing looks untutor❜d and at ease; On the wide heath, or in the flowery vale, We scent the vapours of the sea-born gale; Broad-beaten paths lead on from stile to stile, And sewers from streets the road-side banks defile; Our guarded fields a sense of danger show, Where garden-crops with corn and clover grow; Fences are formed of wreck, and plac'd around, (With tenters tipp'd) a strong repulsive bound; Wide and deep ditches by the gardens run, And there in ambush lie the trap and gun;

Or yon broad board, which guards each tempting prize,

"Like a tall bully, lifts its head and lies."

There stands a cottage with an open door, Its garden undefended blooms before: Her wheel is still, and overturn'd her stool, While the lone widow seeks the neighb'ring pool: This gives us hope, all views of town to shunNo! here are tokens of the sailor son; That old blue jacket, and that shirt of check, And silken kerchief for the seaman's neck; Sea spoils and shells from many a distant shore, And furry robe from frozen Labrador.

Our busy streets and sylvan walks between, Fen, marshes, bog, and heath all intervene ; Here pits of crag, with spongy, plashy base, To some enrich th' uncultivated space: For there are blossoms rare, and curious rush, The gale's rich balm, and sun-dew's crimson blush, Whose velvet leaf with radiant beauty drest, Forms a gay pillow for the plover's breast.

Not distant far, a house commodious made, (Lonely yet public) stands, for Sunday-trade; Thither, for this day free, gay parties go, Their tea-house walk, their tipling rendezvous; There humble couples sit in corner-bowers, Or gaily ramble for th' allotted hours; Sailors and lasses from the town attend, The servant-lover, the apprentice-friend; With all the idle social tribes who seek, And find their humble pleasures once a week. Turn to the watery world!—but who to thee (A wonder yet unview'd) shall paint-the sea? Various and vast, sublime in all its forms, When lull'd by zephyrs, or when rous'd by storms, Its colours changing, when from clouds and sun Shades after shades upon the surface run; Embrown'd and horrid now, and now serene, In limpid blue, and evanescent green; And oft the foggy banks on ocean lie, Lift the fair sail, and cheat th' experienced eye.

Be it the summer-noon: a sandy space The ebbing tide has left upon its place; Then just the hot and stony beach above, Light twinkling streams in bright confusion move; (For heated thus, the warmer air ascends, And with the cooler in its fall contends)— Then the broad bosom of the ocean keeps

An equal motion; swelling as it sleeps,
Then slowly sinking; curling to the strand,
Faint, lazy waves o'ercreep the ridgy sand,
Or tap the tarry boat with gentle blow,
And back return in silence, smooth and slow.
Ships in the calm seem anchor'd-for they glide
On the still sea, urg'd solely by the tide.
Art thou not present, this calm scene before,
Where all beside is pebbly length of shore,
And far as eye can reach, it can discern no more?
Yet sometimes comes a ruffling cloud to make
The quiet surface of the ocean shake;
As an awaken'd giant, with a frown,
Might show his wrath, and then to sleep sink down.
View now the winter-storm! above, one cloud,
Black and unbroken all the skies o'ershroud;
Th' unwieldy porpus through the day before,
Had roll'd in view of boding men on shore;
And sometimes hid and sometimes show'd his form,
Dark as the cloud, and furious as the storm.

All where the eye delights, yet dreads to roam,
The breaking billows cast the flying foam
Upon the billows rising—all the deep

Is restless change; the waves so swell'd and steep,
Breaking and sinking, and the sunken swells,
Nor one, one moment, in its station dwells:
But nearer land you may the billows trace,
As if contending in their watery chace;
May watch the mightiest till the shoal they reach,
Then break and hurry to their utmost stretch;
Curl'd as they come, they strike with furious force,
And then re-flowing, take their grating course,
Raking the rounded flints, which ages past
Roll'd by their rage, and shall to ages last.

Far off the petril in the troubled way
Swims with her brood, or flutters in the spray;
She rises often, often drops again,

And sports at ease on the tempestuous main.

High o'er the restless deep, above the reach Of gunner's hope, vast flights of wild ducks stretch; Far as the eye can glance on either side, In a broad space and level line they glide; All in their wedge-like figures from the north, Day after day, flight after flight, go forth.

In shore their passage tribes of sea-gulls urge,
And drop for prey within the sweeping surge;
Oft in the rough opposing blast they fly
Far back, then turn, and all their force apply,
While to the storm they give their weak com-
plaining cry;

Or clap the sleek white pinion to the breast,
And in the restless ocean dip for rest.

Darkness begins to reign; the louder wind
Appals the weak and awes the firmer mind;
But frights not him, whom evening and the spray
In part conceal-yon prowler on his way:
Lo! he has something seen; he runs apace,
As if he fear'd companion in the chace;
He sees his prize, and now he turns again,
Slowly and sorrowing-" Was your search in vain?"
Gruffly he answers, 'Tis a sorry sight!
'A seaman's body: there 'll be more to-night!'