MADNESS, 
 
 OR 
 
 THE MANIACS' HALL; 
 
 A POEM, 
 
 \h\ §?tbm Cantos. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 " THE DIARY OF A SOLITAIRE." 
 
 " An undevout astronomer is mad !"— Young. 
 And such madness can alone be cured by submission to that eternal Will of uncreated 
 truth revealed in those Scriptures, of which the world's favourite, Byron himself, has 
 thus sung : 
 
 " Within this awful volume lies ! " To read, to fear, to hope, to pray, 
 " The mystery of mysteries ! "To lift the latch, to force the way ; 
 
 " Happiest they of human race, " And better had they ne'er been born, 
 
 " To whom their God has given grace ( " Who read to doubt, or read to scorn." 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SMITH, ELDER AND CO., CORNHILL. 
 
 MDCCCXLI.
 
 London : 
 
 Printefl I" Bl i « ah i uid Minn u . Old
 
 T7? 
 
 53^7 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Since the Author made his last appearance, another and 
 most eventful chapter has' been added to a life of no ordi- 
 nary vicissitude. 
 
 With the fullest intention of exploring some of the 
 romantic beauties of foreign scenery, he left his then 
 residence in the vicinity of the ancient and interesting 
 City of York, and after spending a few days at Scar- 
 borough, took the mail to Hull, intending to proceed by 
 steamer to Hamburgh, Lubeck, and Norway ; in which 
 latter country, the Switzerland of the North, resides an 
 amiable and highly respectable iron-master, whom it was 
 the author's happiness to escort, in the summer of 1835, 
 from York to Kendal, Ulverstone, and from thence, 
 by the banks of Winandermere, as far as Bowness, and 
 back to Kendal, where they separated. This excellent 
 friend and warm-hearted man, had pressed the Author to 
 pay him a visit at Oster Rusoer, in Norway, and thinking 
 at that moment that, like " Childe Harold," he had only to 
 will the acceptance of so delightful an invitation, he fully 
 resolved on doing so ; and immediately on his arrival in 
 Hull, made the necessary enquiries relative to the Ham- 
 burgh steam-boats. Circumstances, however, arose to 
 
 8.* .j$ *~*r"' n»
 
 iv PBEFAI i . 
 
 render necessary the postponement of the more extended 
 continental journey, and he readily yielded to this unex- 
 pected curtailment of his intended rambles, lie sub- 
 sequently bent his way to the south of England, and, 
 for two or three months, luxuriated in the counties of 
 Kent and Sussex. 
 
 A return to the quietude of so unmcrcantile a spot as 
 York, and the having no definite object or occupation of 
 his time, after a life of unusual activity and ceaseless 
 mental exertion, soon threw the unhappy Author into a 
 state of fearful depression ; in which deplorable condition 
 he still continued to reside in York, for upwards of twelve 
 months. 
 
 In the spring of the following year, 1836, an appoint- 
 ment was offered him in Northamptonshire, and though his 
 spirits were scarcely equal to the effort of even visiting 
 the spot, and enquiring into the nature of the duties, yet 
 by the persevering persuasions of several kindly interested 
 friends at York, he at length summoned resolution to at- 
 tempt the journey. Of the early part of his residence at 
 the village of K***'**, he laments to say his remem- 
 brances are more painful than the latter portion of his 
 sojourn in the North. A brighter day did, however, at 
 length await him ; and in the early part of the following 
 year, he had gradually become so much interested in the 
 nature and progress of the work with which his appoint- 
 ment connected him, that from this cause, and more 
 frequent exercise, both bodily and mental health rapidly 
 returned; and so great and sudden was the transition 
 from bi> previous depression, that a comparatively short 
 period sufficed to awaken the alarm of his jealous, though 
 kindly interested friends.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 ♦Having, however, as he thought, entirely laid the evil 
 spirits of fear and jealousy in the timid minds of his 
 friends, he ventured to pay a day's visit to the town of 
 B*********, about forty miles distant from the scene of his 
 official duties, and where his principal friends resided. 
 He is quite aware that those who knew him, and judged 
 him only by an acquaintance with his former life and 
 character, would find ample grounds, in the occurrences 
 of that one day, to consider him in an excited and, in their 
 vieiv, unnaturally joyous state of mind. To make the most 
 of his transient visit, he had hired, for the day, an active 
 poney, and having then recently been in the habit of riding 
 on business, and at full speed, one of the fleetest animals 
 in his neighbourhood, it is little to be wondered at that he 
 was occasionally recognised by his old B********* friends 
 aforesaid, galloping his poney with unwonted glee. Suffice 
 it to say that the free, the cheerful, the unsuspecting 
 being who, the evening before, had had assembled a dozen 
 friends at his cottage board, consisting of several gentle- 
 men connected with the same public work, and a few 
 others^ this same unhappy writer was, in the evening of 
 that same day, handed into a car, in the company of an 
 M.D. and two friends, and driven he knew not where ; 
 till, arriving in the dusk of the evening at a noble mansion, 
 with a Doric portico, which at the first moment of alight- 
 ing, and not noticing the architectural order of said 
 portico, he fancied to be Lord D — s at S ## * ## * # . But 
 alas ! a few moments served to dispel the mists of illusion, 
 and that night found him a. la "maison de sante," in an 
 unsought and unwelcome bed. 
 
 Finding his restless mind, as had previously been the 
 case at York, bent, after the first week -or two, upon some
 
 \ I PRE! i( 
 
 mental occupation, he soon found a blissful and soothing 
 efficacy in the tones of his long neglected harp. The 
 first attempt at which, after a silent lapse of more than 
 twenty years, was entirely prompted by his esteemed 
 sister in friendship, J. E. L — , the amiable niece of the 
 proprietor. Her fostering encouragement of his experi- 
 ment induced him, at her renewed request, to try again 
 and again; and finding that numbers came more fluently 
 than he anticipated, the thought electrically struck him 
 in one of his evening meditative walks, — and on taking a 
 retrospective glance of his own life and painful experience 
 on the subject, — that the theme for a poem was not 
 only entirely new, but fraught with interest of the deepest 
 and most diversified character. 
 
 lie suffered the subject to rest on his mind for a few 
 days, and finding that the more he dwelt upon it, the more 
 deeply his feelings and hopes of usefulness became involved 
 in the desire to attempt the "bold emprise," he deter- 
 mined to essay a poetic and descriptive volume on the 
 subject of insanity, and asylums generally; and he was 
 the more bent upon indulging the attempt, from recollect- 
 ing that no poet, so far as his reading goes, had entered 
 upon it, except in a casual or fugitive way. 
 
 The theme itself appears to be as little known as the 
 savage mysteries of barbarous nations ; and even by those 
 few, who have either themselves been tlm> afflicted, or 
 been entrusted with the guardianship of others, — how 
 little, alas ! has this painfully interesting subject been in 
 their thoughts ! 
 
 Why such lamentable ignorance, and still more affecting 
 indifference to the mysterious and afflictive diseases of the 
 mind, should continue to exist in an age boasting of its
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 intellectual enlightenment, and of much religious profes- 
 sion, the author of the following poem must leave for the 
 calmer moments of his reflective reader to determine; and 
 simply express his own conviction, that, spite of all that has 
 been written by medical and other authors on the subject 
 of insanity, there still exists a fearful ignorance as to the 
 proper care and treatment of insane patients ; and that 
 with those who, like himself, have known something of 
 the hidden secrets of asylums, private and public, there 
 does, in this era of science and of knowledge, rest some 
 degree of responsibility more effectually to arouse the 
 public attention and sympathy towards it. 
 
 In the confession just made, that the author has seen 
 much of establishments of this nature, (for he has visited 
 them in Scotland and Ireland, as well as England,) and 
 not only seen much, but has himself more than once been 
 the subject of personal confinement, he is not discouraged 
 in prosecuting the aim he had in view, of submitting the 
 accompanying descriptive and discursive pages to the 
 candour and indulgence of his Christian reader. 
 
 He cannot, at the same time, forbear remarking, that 
 on the first appearance of mental disease, there is, in most 
 cases, an extreme jealousy respecting the melancholy 
 fact being known beyond the circle in which the unhappy 
 patient had been accustomed to move. The author will 
 not stop to inquire whether this excessive caution is not 
 sometimes carried too far; — nor whether there are not 
 many bodily diseases in which the shame of surrounding 
 friends and relatives ought not to be quite as sensitively 
 alive. For himself, he would unhesitatingly say, that he 
 rejoices rather to have been the companion of such pure 
 and afflicted spirits, as Cruden, Cowper, and Robert Hall,
 
 viil PRBI At l. 
 
 in the agonising restraints and associations of an asylum, 
 than with the worldling debauchee to triumph over those 
 victims of seduction or poverty, whom his lust or avarice 
 may have reduced to disease, remorse, and privation. 
 
 The obvious aim of the following pages, will, the Author 
 trusts, be sufficiently apparent on glancing over the argu- 
 ments of the several cantos of the poem. It being simply 
 that, to which allusion has already been made ; viz. — the 
 desire to awaken a more lively interest and sympathy in 
 the sufferings of the thousands, who, up and down in this 
 kingdom, and the world at large, are immured within the 
 walls and precincts of asylums. 
 
 lie has been more especially led to the adoption of 
 poetry, as his vehicle of opinion and sentiment, from 
 having spent, in many respects, some of the happiest 
 moments of his life in a spot, the extreme attractions of 
 which, as regards seclusion and luxuriant richness of 
 scenery, at once aroused a strong conviction of its peculiar 
 eligibility for the purpose to which it is devoted. 
 
 The indulging of that feeling has resulted in the com- 
 position and eventual publication of the following poem ; 
 and as it may not be uninteresting to some of his 
 readers, especially of the younger class, whose habits arc 
 but as it were now forming, the author feels inclined to 
 give a brief sketch of its progress. 
 
 From mere curiosity, he was induced to refer to the 
 lite of Thomson, the minstrel of that rich but equivocal 
 poem, "The Castle of Indolence ;" — suspecting that the 
 detail of his labours would elicit something of the habits of 
 the man. Jle found that the " Seasons," which contain 
 fewer lines than " Madness," was published in four sepa- 
 rate years, extending from 1726 to 1730. Winter pre-
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 ceding, and Autumn, the last, being included in the folio 
 edition of his works, published in the year last named. 
 
 Of the poem now submitted to the sympathies and better 
 feelings of the public, the first six stanzas were composed 
 before leaving the author's chamber, on the 30th of 5mo. 
 (May), 1837, and the concluding twenty stanzas completed 
 on the 10th of 8mo. (Aug.) of the same. That is, the 
 whole poem was completed within as many months, as 
 the Bard of Nature took years for the publication of his 
 splendid work, The Seasons. The reader will perhaps 
 smile in gentle astonishment, when it is further asserted, 
 that, with the exception of an occasional supplementary 
 stanza thrown in, as the author found he had omitted some 
 name or subject necessary to his purpose, comparatively 
 very few were written after breakfast ; the whole composi- 
 tion being the production of the morning from four to 
 seven o'clock.* 
 
 Is it in vanity that the Author thus parades these small 
 facts ? He would, with becoming reverence, say, " God 
 forbid!" But, having most deeply at heart the best 
 welfare of the rising generation of his beloved country, 
 he was willing, for very example's sake, to set forth the 
 above simple statement, in order to demonstrate that 
 John Wesley, and Dr. Adam Clarke, and a thousand 
 other wise and sober-minded men, were right in their 
 decision on the subject of early rising. The apostle of 
 Methodism and the indefatigable Biblical commentator, 
 for the last twenty years of each of their lives, invariably 
 
 * The dates above given will further apprise the reader that the act of 
 publication has not been a precipitate one : — the original draft of the Poem 
 having lain, for a period of upwards of four years, in the strictest seclusion 
 from the sight of even his most intimate friends.
 
 X I'HKI \< I . 
 
 rose at four o'clock. The Author, with the exception of the 
 eighteen months prior to the present year, and during the 
 deplorable depression into which inaction had plunged 
 him, has been, for several years, an early riser. 
 
 From the nature of his engagement at K — , he was, 
 at the commencement of the present year, not unfre- 
 quently in the habit of accompanying his excellent friend, 
 the resident engineer, in nocturnal visits to the works. 
 These visits aided in restoring his long-lost energy of 
 mind, and gradually brought him to the practice, which 
 he followed till separated from the scene, of rising at 
 three, and regularly descending into several shafts of the 
 tunnel every morning, and remaining on the ground till 
 the men changed " shifts," as the working divisions of the 
 day are termed. 
 
 For the Poem itself, both in the first thought of it, and 
 in the distribution and conduct of the subject, the Author 
 is alone responsible ; having been entirely secluded from 
 either advice or opinion, if he excepts the general remarks 
 of his amiable and accomplished friend, Dr. Southey, who, 
 in acknowledging a rough outline of his design, and the 
 contents of each Canto's argument, together with some 
 half-dozen stanzas, of the verse itself, — is pleased to speak 
 of the subject as both " copious and important."* 
 
 Keswick, 20th June, 18:37. 
 M v Dear Sir, 
 
 Pressed as I am with occupation, I must borrow a portion of 
 
 precious time' for replying to your letter, with regard to the subject for 
 
 poetry which you have taken up. The subject is copiou- ami important ; 
 
 but is it not of too exciting a nature for you ? Your object should be what 
 
 I proposed to myself as the one- thing needful in intellectual self-treatment, 
 
 tiw-and-thirty years ago, when I borrowed from an old Spaniard for my 
 
 motto, tb. words In labore quiet. Any employment that agitates you,
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 In the few introductory pages to his former little work, 
 " The Diary/' the author was bold enough to speak with 
 considerable independence of the mentors of criticism ; 
 and although, as regards that volume, he has not a syllable 
 to retract, yet, having now assumed a totally different 
 character, — having, in fact, dared to tread unbidden the 
 sacred banks of Castaly's fair stream, and climbed some of 
 the venturous heights of Parnassus, — he feels that to the 
 good taste of his critical judges, greater respect is due in 
 the pi'esent instance. 
 
 If the extended freedom used in the Scriptural para- 
 phrases of Isaiah and John in the 7th Canto, should 
 
 must be so far injurious. Can you trust yourself for proceeding with it, 
 only while you feel it beneficial, and laying it aside as soon as it affects you 
 strongly ? Long ago, I was warned by experience, never to proceed con- 
 tinuously with any work which I had in hand, after I had began to dream 
 of it ; and this is the reason why I have always several works in progress. 
 
 The subject itself is an admirable one. The best vehicle for it would be 
 blank verse, which, nevertheless, I do not advise you to attempt : for, 
 though you have chosen the most difficult English stanza (the Spencerian), 
 you will find it easier than to construct blank verse skilfully. If your pur- 
 pose holds, I should recommend you to compose the descriptive portions 
 first, because, they must, of course, be the quietest; and to feed your ear 
 by persuing those poets who have written best in stanzas. Fairfax's Tasso, 
 Phineas Fletcher's Purple Island, his brother Giles Fletcher ; all that 
 Daniel and Drayton have written in the octave stanza. The diction of these 
 poets is uniformly good, whatever their faults may be in other respects. If 
 I have not mentioned Spenser, it is not from forgetfulness of a poet whom 
 I look to more than any other as my master, but, because, while, in all 
 other respects, he is one of the greatest (and to me the most delightful) of 
 all poets, his language is peculiarly his own. 
 
 Poetry is as much an art as architecture ; and, if you would practise it, 
 you must study poets as your brother studied cathedrals. 
 
 Farewell, my dear Sir, and believe me always, 
 
 Yours, with sincere regard, 
 
 ROBEKT SOUTHEY.
 
 XII l'KI 
 
 appear, to cither reader or reviewer, needlessly extended, 
 the author ventures, in his own defence, to Bay, that if 
 such writers as the late excellent Hannah More thought it 
 desirable to publish her " Sacred Dramas," and to throw, 
 even into the form of fiction, as in " Calebs," some of the 
 purest and most exalted sentiments on practical Chris- 
 tianity, he trusts he is equally justiiied in attaching to his 
 own higher branch of the subject, such distinct and 
 splendid prophecies, with regard to the future state of 
 the earth, as may, he hopes, lead on his more careless, 
 and, possibly, irreligious reader, to the perusal of some of 
 those future and awful verities of prophecy, which their 
 distaste for exclusively Scriptural reading might prevent 
 their deriving from the Bible itself. 
 
 Of the success or failure of these paraphrases it becomes 
 not the Author to speak ; but he throws himself upon the 
 indulgence of his readers in the performance of this part 
 of his minstrel task, trusting that with his Christian 
 reader, the motive will, in some degree, extenuate the im- 
 perfections of his muse.
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 No other poet has sung of this subject — Its deep interest and univer- 
 sality as to rank, age or sex — Obvious increase in England, if not 
 the world — and prospective probability of that increase progressing 
 for some generations to come ..... page 1 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 Requisites for an Asylum — Cheerful and beautiful scenery — Seclusion 
 — Light — Healthiness of situation — Management — Sufficient 
 number and more intelligent attendants — Skilful and periodical 
 medical attendance — Exercise — In-door employment — Large 
 day-rooms — Importance of watching patients individually as 
 to exercise in particular — Religious service 23 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 Description of D******** — its romantic attractions and lovely 
 seclusion so near an important central mart of business — Spa- 
 ciousness of apartments and moral and religious management 39
 
 \i\ CONTENTS. 
 
 i \NT«» IV. 
 
 Sketch of various miiir characters known t<> the author In different 
 
 • stabliahments ]<•>'-'*■ <; ' 
 
 CANTO V. 
 Sketch of various female characters known to the author . . . 93 
 
 CANTO VI. 
 
 General exemplifications of aberrating minds — And the singular and 
 
 often sublime conceptions which attend the ravings of maniacs. .118 
 
 CANTO VII. 
 
 (■eneral reflections ; — conclusion referring to the fulfilment of pro- 
 phecy, and those future and glorious days, when such possessiun- 
 and imbecilities of mind shall cease, and cloudless truth and 
 unsullied purity reign over all ... 161 
 
 \' >TI- i ll»!)
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 No other poet has sung of this subject — Its deep interest and univer- 
 sality as to rank, age, or sex — Obvious increase in England, if not the 
 world, and prospective probability of that increase progressing for 
 some generations to come. 

 
 MADNESS. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 i. 
 
 Bard of the Isle I 1 thy latent music wake, 
 
 And through the vale its thrilling numbers pour ! 
 Harp of the Isle ! — thy long lov'd silence break, 
 
 And, mid the throng, in living accents soar 
 From lowest depths, where ne'er the lyre before 
 
 Hath strung its plaining chords to man's worst 2 woe, 
 And told of human griefs the hidden store ; 
 
 To that bright region of time's future go, 
 Where nor the lands, nor seas, the pangs of ill shall know ! 
 
 ii. 
 
 Since other bards have tun'd the various lyre 
 
 To themes of war, of paradise and hell ! 
 Since other songs the minstrel lay inspire, 
 
 And verse's sons in fluent numbers tell 
 Their lofty flights ; and countless bosoms swell 
 
 With sympathy divine, as o'er the page 
 Each eager eye — in city or in dell — 
 
 Mid youthful bloom, or e'en of thoughtful age 
 Enraptur'd ponders, thus let me life's cares assuage. 
 
 B
 
 MADN1 ITO I. 
 
 III. 
 
 strains the chorus loud have swclfd, 
 And I' ten thousand Bona have taught 
 
 ( )f uiic or bliss ; — of nature as beheld ; — ■ 
 
 health, diw ase, and death ; — of all that ought 
 To claim the tear, or raise the smile unbought; — 
 
 Truth' t depths; — and told each latent charm, 
 
 Of which or nature, or man's spirit's fraught; 
 S i that ii" tluine of blessing or of harm 
 oains unsung, let mental \\<>l this bosom warm! 
 
 IV. 
 
 First, have we not the bard of sightless orb, 
 Blind Homer, who of battle's carnage Bung? — 
 
 And while hi- Btrains our every thought absorb, 
 w V mourn the theme thatloos'd his war-tun'd tongue, 
 
 And fain would hope that when his genius flung 
 That martial hand along the trembling wire, 
 
 *T\\;i- fate alone that to his chain'd soul clung 
 As with a lay of thunder and of fire, 
 O'er Tn>\'s defeat his waning powers of verse expire. 
 
 v. 
 And lie of Eden too — the bard sublime, 3 
 
 Who Boars to heavenly flights of angel sphere, 
 \)d ere revolving Buns have mark'd the time 
 
 ( >f man'- first growth, or beaming stars appear 
 And Bing the morn'- approach — (to spirits dear!) 
 
 And there, 'mid throngs of countless beings dwell, 
 Radiant with glory and unscathed by fear, 
 
 To distant times the awful truths to tell 
 Of pride that plunged Archangels down to lowest hell ! —
 
 Canto L] MADNESS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 That hell of which the immortal voice of song 
 
 Hath reach'd 'mid Italy's luxuriant land ; 
 And Dante, whom all kindred genius long 
 
 With welcome hail from that triumphant band, 
 Whose names recorded in fame's temple, stand, 
 
 As monuments of mind's inventive power 
 To him who thus, with more than mortal hand, 
 
 Hath dared to paint the horrid scenes that lour 
 In Satan's realms, and steep with woe his fated hour ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Say, courteous reader, what the deep fraught theme, 
 
 The universe around — or in lore's teeming world, 
 That hath not flow'd in tributary stream 
 
 To that book-sea 4 by man's proud gifts empearl'd ! 
 Whether a Tasso sing of flag unfurl'd 
 
 By christian Knight, and anti-christian fight — 
 'Mid which the priest of Jesu's worship hurl'd 
 
 The missile dart ; and swords of pilgrims white 
 Stain'd the proud crescent, with Saracenic symbols dight. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But nought of maniac's mental woe did he 
 
 In sympathy pourtray ; — nor yet the Bard 
 Of England's elder prince of poesy, 
 
 Blythe Chaucer, mid his pilgrim guard 
 And satire keen on priestly sin's reward. 
 
 In vain too search we Spencer's fairy lore 
 To find the harp by maniac sorrow barr'd, 
 
 Roused to the lays which minstrel hearts might pour 
 O'er idiot sons that crowd around the chained door. 
 
 b 2
 
 4 M LDNBSS. I lhto I. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Whi t though of madness such ;i> Shale spe are 8 drew, 
 
 [ntenser interest -i :al'd his lay divine, — 
 x i . i 'tis hut nf the individual few 
 
 That thus, 1>\ him, their sorrows intertwine 
 Th' immortal branches of Parnassian \in< ■: 
 
 Nor he, nor Pope, nor Dryden, e'er reveal'd 
 In death! the pangs thai long combine, 
 
 Those mourning ones from human Ken conceal'd 
 To dole their weary hours, where days no pleasure yield. 
 
 x. 
 Yes! vain the Bearch 'mid strains of other days 
 
 To find the heart whom sympathy hath stirr'd, 
 Responsive to the madman's soul-less ways, 
 
 Or of his solitary plainings heard 
 The dreadful tale; — no champion mind to gird 
 
 The Christian's armour, and protecting care 
 O'er the lo>t thousands of confinement's herd 
 
 W ho ehannt the wild-note song or loud-tongued prayer, 
 And dead to hope, breathe Bighs, the victims of despair! 
 
 XL 
 
 Have Addison, or Thomson, 7 Gay, or Young, 8 
 
 Attuned their lyres to the responding string 
 Which vihratcs to the heart, and eiv'n a tongue 
 
 To woes these later accents fain would sing? 
 But we are yet in time's scarce embryo spring, 
 
 And other days and other bards may tell 
 Of horrors that are passed; of mansions drear, 
 
 That bore the emblem of an earthly hell 
 Where sympathetic tear of relatives ne'er fell!
 
 Canto I.] MADNESS. 5 
 
 XII. 
 
 And what has verse more modern done for these, 
 
 The outcasts of the world's sweet terrene joys ? 
 E'en Cowper9 pure — the bard whom all must please — 
 
 Long chain'd himself to maniacs' dread alloys ; 
 Rich as the muse the immortal " Task" employs, 
 
 E'en he is silent on this mournful theme ; 
 Or scarcely more than lifts a casual voice 
 
 To point us to the almost lightless beam 
 That pours o'er intellect, of truth its feeble stream. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Of later bards — the Byrons 10 and the Scotts 11 — 
 
 And she not least, the star-lit souls among, 
 Felicia — say, have these bestowed their lots 
 
 To soothe the woes of melancholy ; — strung 
 Their echoing notes, and borne for grief a tongue 
 
 Such as to " Health," the lucid Armstrong gave ; — 
 To « Death" a Porteous, 12 and to " Night" a Young ? 
 
 Say, have these minds, the instructive or the grave, 
 Done aught the mourning maniac's aching pangs to save? 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Oh thou ! whom, first in name as rank, we sing, 
 
 Well do I trow thy spirit is in pain 
 In retrospect of fame's poor glittering thing; — 
 
 Would gladly seek this mortal earth again, 
 To blot from England's verse the sullying strain: — 
 
 But ah! too late that tear repentant springs ; — 
 Seal'd is thy destiny ! — nor, alas ! too long 
 
 Can we deplore of fame the latent stings, 
 If to the soul such future agony it brings !
 
 \IA!.N ESS CAVTO 1 
 
 XV. 
 
 Poor Shelley too — and Hunt, — friends of thy lay, 
 
 And Bards of no mean rank, the crowd among, 
 Once join'd thee, Byron, in thy wandering day, 
 
 And pour'd their strains yon southern shores along 
 Where Italy's blue skies, and classic tongue 
 
 Invite tli* enraptur'd step. — Ah ! impious man, 
 ^ iih gifts so lofty, and with graces hung 
 
 Thick o'er thy lyric harp — why should God's plan, 
 Tempt thus the muse with Shelley's atheist eye to scan? 
 
 XVI. 
 
 A madman thou, much fitter for these walls 
 
 Than many a poor demented child of woe — 
 Would that e'en now 'midst I)********'s noble halls 
 
 Thy spirit I could ken, and straightway know 
 What from death's regions thou couldst now bestow 
 
 Of truths, these awful themes reveal. — Ah me ! 
 Though deep and patriot feelings have their flow 
 
 In verse of thine — and sensibility 
 Breathes through thy song — what now availeth all to thee? 
 
 XVII. 
 
 But 'mid the throng that fame's bright portals crowd, 
 
 Let not the muse a school companion miss ; — 
 Forget a Wiffen's lyre so justly proud 
 
 From tongue of Italy to lay of this: 
 A Tasso's verses to translate.— Yes, his 
 
 The praise, to clothe in Britain's fluent lay 
 The noble story of crusader's bliss ; 
 
 To youthful minds in other garb convey, 
 Their battle song, and priests' un-Christ-like wars' array !
 
 Canto I.] MADNESS. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 How short thy brilliant race ! — Life's proud career 
 
 From humblest paths of lowly youth's first glance 
 At learning, thou thy future course didst steer, 
 
 By Providence well guarded, to advance 
 Of fortune and of fame that might entrance 
 
 A nobler birth ; — for Bedford's hall was thine, 
 And Wooburn will her rural scenes enhance, 
 
 By memory of lays that round her twine 
 Thy name, dear Wiffen, and embalm a Tasso's line ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Thy tomb breathes monitory thoughts to him, 
 
 Who, 'mid the glories of" earth's highest joys, 
 Fame, friends, and learning — vigour's agile limb — 
 
 Ne'er dreams, that in an adverse hour, the toys 
 Of fame, of lore and health — faith's oft alloys — 
 
 May scatter'd lie, — and death's cold icy hand — 
 Whom Jesu's grace and power alone destroys, 
 
 Chill the warm blood, and bear the dread command 
 To leave his terrene bliss, at judgment's seat to stand ! 
 
 xx. 
 
 So 'twas with thee, lamented child of song ! 
 
 For in one hour the awful message came. 
 Thy race is run ! and thou, content thus long 
 
 To hold the pride of intellect and fame, 
 Must to thy God in suppliant guise proclaim 
 
 How thou hast borne the talent to thee dealt : — 
 What boots it now that Wiffen was thy name, 
 
 And fame hath graced thy brow with laurell'd belt 
 Of bliss ?— for ever fled the joys that minstrel felt !
 
 8 MADN1 [CAWTO I. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 OfCrabbe and Keats, and fair initial'd names 
 
 ()f countless bards that shine in monthly Leaf) 
 Where is the one who sings of madness' claims 
 
 Or tells of sanatory Bkill's relief 
 To .-t;i\ this ill— of human woes the chief? — 
 
 "Tis but an incident or passing form 
 Of individual pain, that marks belief 
 
 Of wrongs, that crowd 'mid many a mental storm 
 These dreaded mansions — nor do then their bosoms warm ! 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Scan Ocean's song, to youthful Falconer given ; 
 
 Where, "mid the horrors of the briny deep — 
 Mid masts and sails by furious tempests riven 
 
 The Poet's lines descriptive vigil keep ; 
 Nor to his eyelids suffers balmy sleep 
 
 To bring her soothing somnolescent power, 
 But o'er the wreck his heart's torn feelings weep, 
 
 And from the sad — the last — the death-fraught hour, 
 Brings her mellifluous verse to Fame's immortal tower. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 And much of truth the " Farmer's Boy" could tell, 
 
 Or in the field, or in the homestead scene ; 
 For Bloomfield 13 holds his yet unbroken spell 
 
 O'er the rude Listeners of the village green. 
 Nor Less in Somerville, whose lays, I ween, 
 
 Would joy the heart of many a huntsman bold, 
 And prove the latent power of verse — thus seen 
 
 To seize the sons of "chase" with strongest hold, 
 And in th* excited breast Bong's rapturous glee unfold.
 
 Canto I.] MADNESS. c 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Not these, we find, have touch'd the mournful theme, 
 
 Or only touch'd, in incidental strain, 
 Those woes which mark the maniac's fitful dream, 
 
 And seal with hopeless grief each mental pain. 
 — Explore the streams of poesy again, 
 
 And say if yet, the mind's unwelcome ill — 
 Insanity's dread power — in wide domain 
 
 Of Castaly, or on Parnassus' hill, 
 Hath found one lay its sympathetic notes to fill ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Ah! what of Chatterton ? 14 — ill fated bard, 
 
 With loftiest powers of antiquarian cheat, 
 That well might learning's self throw off its guard, 
 
 And take for truths the stripling's apt deceit ! 
 But mark how folly's graceless maxims meet : 
 
 Himself, alas ! in death's unbidden grasp 
 Untimely fell ! — He sought a base retreat 
 
 From day's fair scenes ; and vainly, like the asp, 
 With cherish'd bitterness essay'd to gnaw life's rasp ! 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 And he of Scotia's classic land and stream 
 
 The lyric crowd among, stands out in mould 
 Of noblest soul ; — and through his verses teem 
 
 Those high-born thoughts that poesy controll'd, 
 But o'er all meaner things, in vengeful current roll'd . 
 
 Ah ! reckless Burns, 15 what passion seized thy heart, 
 That with a lyre of purest, gentlest theme, 
 
 Could to each breast responsive bliss impart, 
 But gave thy soul to sin, and sped death's barbed dart !
 
 In M IDNE88 [Canto I. 
 
 \\\ II. 
 Mueh of deep thought ami vigorous lay severe, 
 
 Hath Burns poured forth to Britain's raptur'd sense; 
 But where of maniac's unseen woe or tear, 
 
 I lath he e'er Bung? save only to dispense 
 To drooping minds sweet sympathy, and thence 
 
 To wan and hopeless melancholy bring, 
 Lethean southings for each past offence ; 
 
 And of the varied forms of anguish sing, 
 IUit nought of him, the mind's and sin's Satanic king. 
 
 xxvm. 
 Nor Grahame, he who sang the Sabbath's joys, 
 
 And of its blissful hours to man pourtray'd 
 The aim and end, freed from sin's base alloys. — 
 
 - \ hath he, the maniac's path surveyed ': 
 I ween not so. The verse hath ne'er been made 
 
 That sings, with truth, the direst woe of life : 
 Through past or present song in vain we wade 
 
 To find the lay, with mental cordials rife, 
 Can heal the wounded mind of husband, child or wife. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Of living lays, the longest and the best, 
 
 lie who in matchless energy of pen 
 Hath e'er attended truth's divine behest, 
 
 And fearless bade the reckless sons of men 
 Yield their dark hearts to God's own light again, 
 
 And Beei in Him — yes, seek in Him alone 
 That cure of soul, that case of every pain, 
 
 \N Inch nought but grace can give, or truth make known 
 
 th earth's surrounding suns, or heaven's eternal throne !
 
 Canto I.] MADNESS. \\ 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Yes, Laureate Bard ! 16 to memory's sight most dear, 
 
 (For I have seen, and heard, and talk'd with thee !) 
 Well do I know that it nor needs a seer 
 
 To prophesy the fate of poesy ; 
 Nor learned heart, to mark what erst shall be 
 
 The doom of those, the God defying ones, 
 Who boasting from all trammels to be free, 
 
 Proclaim themselves of Satan's fold the sons, 
 And of Christ's enemies, — the hell-born myrmidons ! 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Yes, my lov'd Southey ! let not arm of man 
 
 Stay our bold hearts, in tearing from his eyes 
 The sin-obscuring veil, — nor cease to scan 
 
 With Jesu's vigil eye, th' insidious lies 
 That, high as banner of fame's army flies, 
 
 Blend aye their poisonous, soul-destroying powers, 
 And in their blaze of glory — vain disguise ! — 
 
 Such glory as to earth's cursed orb it lowers — 
 Ten thousand barbed arrows 'mid the blind crowd showers ! 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Not thou, my friend, nor Wordsworth, 17 pure as gold 
 
 Your lays have madly baited with alloy 
 Th' entranced fancies of that crowd to hold ! 
 
 Nor with the voice of seeming truth employ 
 The arts of verse poor sinners to decoy ; 
 
 But fraught with truth, with intellect, and love, 
 Your anthems raise ; and virtue's sons enjoy 
 
 From human lays delights that soar above 
 All earth-born pleasures, nor th' insatiate passions move !
 
 12 MAD.M 98 [Cant.. I. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Montgomery, 18 thcc — with harp not least divine, — 
 How hast thou raised these gold-sunk souls of ours, 
 
 And ere the Hood had merged th' equator's line 
 Sung of thi' Patriarch's days, and guiltless hour- : 
 
 Thou who hast charms to soothe e'en passion's powers, 
 
 And give a tongue to human grief and joy, 
 Say wilt thou e'er mid halls where madness lours 
 Attune the lyre ami each hlest art employ 
 To heal life's wounds, and mitigate each sad alloy? 
 
 xxxiv. 
 Full well couldst thou with lyric song inspire 
 
 A sympathy the world as yet not feels, 
 For hidden pangs that rouse the madman's ire 
 
 And all his grief in melancholy seals. 
 Rogers too, and Campbell's line reveals 
 
 A sensibility of woe that speaks 
 A heart in each that silence but conceals 
 
 From common gaze, — but there are streaks 
 Of mercy's light to him their deeper verse who seeks. 
 
 xxxv. 
 And thou, the Quaker bard, and one in faith, 
 
 W hose various lyre hath Bcann'd each pregnant theme 
 Thai virtue and that truth delight in; — saith 
 Tin verse ought of maniac woes supreme, 
 That darken reason, and shut out every gleam 
 
 Of mental light from idiot'.- vacant Boul, 
 In those displays of grace, where radiant beam 
 The rays of love and Jesu's blest controul? 
 I ween, dear Barton," that thy lays not there do roll. 
 
 2
 
 Canto I.] MADNESS. 13 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 And Pollok — he, who with no timid hand 
 
 Swept Zion's harp ; and of Time's onward course 
 With comprehensive view and bold command 
 
 Of thought, did from Creation's hidden source 
 Trace th' eventful stream, and with no idle force 
 
 Of poesy, brought in one general sight 
 The past and present, and with murmurings hoarse 
 
 Did call the sons of error to that light 
 Which shines in all; — but ah! in most extinguish'd quite! 
 
 XXXVH. 
 
 Another harp in twain — the Howitt's — lo ! 
 
 Have many a lingering line of music sweet; 
 Bid to our verseful bosoms gently flow 
 
 In strains for virtue and for gladness meet. 
 But, ah ! nor Quaker nor Moravian seat 
 
 Of poesy hath yet given sorrow birth, 
 In song, that may with soothing influence greet 
 
 The maniac child ! — forgotten of the earth, 
 And wearing out life's thread, far from all scenes of mirth! 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 But where is he, the bard of modern growth, 
 
 Whose bright ethereal wand of perfect verse 
 Can ope the orient sky ; or inly loth 
 
 To leave the beauteous world, in lays rehearse 
 Of Persia, or of Albion's isle, the curse 
 
 Of glory's idle pomp, — say where has he 
 With " Lallah's" richest music — full and terse — 
 
 Pour'd forth the streams of classic Castaly 
 On mental ills ? Oh ! muse of Ireland, where is she ?
 
 14 M \i>m [Cakio i 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 And shall we, 'mid the tuneful throng, o'crlook 
 
 The mournful monody, or thrilling tale, 
 W hieh countless bards have penn'd, and in the hook 
 
 ( tf minstrelsy, pourtrayed tlic visage pale ; 
 And to the wild wind's melancholy gale 
 
 Strung their mellifluous harps, and sang of woe 
 Such as those wounded hearts alone exhale 
 
 W hose mourning days in ceaseless misery flow, 
 And weeping, ask the aid our sympathies bestow? 
 
 XL. 
 
 Fes ! Collins, thou, and richer Akenside- 
 
 Could sing of sorrows such as madness know-. 
 Could mark the treach'rous steps of inborn pride, 
 
 And trace each selfish motive as it rose ; 
 'Mid love's electric pangs, ambition's throes, 
 
 Or the worse follies of a priest-rid soul; 
 "Mid glorious hopes, could note the Christ-less foes 
 
 W hose impious thoughts, defying truth's controul, 
 Run with untiring hate to sin's forbidden goal. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 And what of her, whose eloquence, now mute, 
 
 Once " Psyche" sung. Our fair ones, now in haste, 
 Pluck not the sweetest, but the latest fruit 
 
 The teeming press supplies! Infatuate taste ! 
 Would that from memory's burdened store erased 
 
 One half the lays of minstrelsy's false birth 
 Could, by a Tighe 21 or Akenside displaced, 
 
 Redeem from reading's curse this recreant earth, 
 And, for the reign of wit, give purer poets forth !
 
 Canto I.J MADNESS. 15 
 
 XLII. 
 
 And him, not least, the " Minstrel" bard we hail, 
 
 And ask, tho' eloquent and just his lay, 
 If 'mid the glories of fame's prosperous gale 
 
 And Scotia's dawn of learning's brightest day, 
 A Beattie 22 — Blair, — or England's lyric, Gray, 
 
 Have sung the woes of mind-destroying sin? 
 Ah no ! 'tis yet, in truth, unsung ; nor they, 
 
 Nor other bards, *mid verse's loudest din 
 Have touch'd this mournful theme. Then let the lay begin. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Say, of all subjects that absorb the soul, 
 
 And chain its powers with unresisted force, 
 What holds o'er man the most entire controul, 
 
 And through each feeling's agonising course 
 Denies to thought the last and best resource 
 
 Of sinful hearts, — the christian scheme of love — 
 Ah ! is't not madness ? — for what weak recourse 
 
 Can struggling reason have to scenes above, 
 Since she, unseated, must in self's 23 dark trammels move! 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Oh ! beats the heart so dead to thoughts divine — 
 
 So wrapp'd in self's immuring house of clay, 
 That nor the bosom pangs that thickly twine 
 
 Each incident that marks the cheerless day, 
 Nor loudly echoing voice when maniacs pray, 
 
 Or seem to pray — and rend the air with cries, — 
 Can draw a sympathetic tear, to say 
 
 His fervent wish that such distress might rise 
 In suppliant prayer to Him who treads yon orient skies !
 
 16 MADN1 CAMTO I. 
 
 KLV. 
 
 It' such there be— so cold, so dead to all 
 
 That speaks a heart with Christ's own mercy fraught — 
 Let him — let her — on worldling muses call 
 
 For cater'd verse, since in this lay there's nought 
 l)\ flattery gilded or by lucre bought ! 
 
 No ! may this hand be stricken from its side, 
 If, by the crowd of fashion's minions caught, 
 
 It seek in intellectual power or pride 
 That glory which mere human song or lore betide ! 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 For, say not, reader, that this painful theme 
 
 I- of small interest to the world's great throng; — 
 That better far of horrors such to dream, 
 
 Than thus to drag them into type-graved song; — 
 So thinks not he to whom these lays belong; 
 
 Nor asks he of another, leave to sing — 
 If to thy soul, the poet's high rais'd tongue 
 
 A fearful train of thoughts terrific bring, — 
 Go to thy Saviour, reader! seek in prayer Heaven's King! 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Say, canst thou tell what rank, or sex, or age, 
 
 The fated loss of reason may befall? 
 What {tower of man can God's right hand engage 
 
 T<> save that falling reason? — Or what call 
 Of Loudest echo, through the maniacs' hall, 
 
 Prevent or May the onward course to death, 
 Which marks each wild-eyed wandering form of all 
 
 That dwell within? 'Tis God himself that saith 
 "On him that sinneth-* — rich or poor — descends mywrathl"
 
 Canto I.] MADNESS. 17 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Since then to all in judgment sore may come 
 
 The dreaded mandate of lost reason's state — 
 Say not, oh thou ! whose eyes in anger roam 
 
 These pages, and in sinful passion's hate 
 Deny the truths and scenes these strains narrate — 
 
 That they are themes forbidden — close quick the book 
 As unbefitting thee, — but if relate 
 
 Its truth-told secrets to the thoughts thou took 
 Of others' woe, fear not within it then to look. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 For ah ! I ween the object is but new 
 
 To man's all reckless dreams of earthly bliss ; 
 Nor takes his eye the Christian's wider view 
 
 Of passing scenes; but in a world like this 
 Bids bold defiance to all wills but his, 
 
 And fondly hopes t' escape those dreaded ills. 
 Hold, earth-born man ! — Suppose thy footsteps miss 
 
 The halcyon path, and bitter misery fills 
 Thy cup, and thro' each vein the madman's horror thrills ! 
 
 L. 
 
 Say, wilt thou then, gay trifler, 25 heedless go 
 
 And deem that thou no part in grief shalt take — 
 That 'neath thy breast no deepening stream shall flow 
 
 Of sorrow's tears; — nor fearful anguish wake 
 To dread remorse, at jeers that sinners make? 
 
 Alas, 'tis so ! — for adamantine rock 
 Is down itself to breast of heartless rake ! 
 
 Yes, be it so ! — since nought but death's dread shock 
 Can wake the sleeping sons of Babylon's gay flock ! 
 
 c
 
 IS MADNESS [Cam.- I. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Oh ! could the bard with Michael's tramp but sound 
 
 Thitf London's halls— andah! thro' London's "helli 
 The awful truth, that Lf Christ be not found 
 
 This Bide the gulf where Jordan's torrent swells, 
 In vain to other gods with Voltaire — yells, 
 
 Where death's uplifted dart thy terrors raise ; 
 Wilt thou, poor man — (that sigh thy horror tell.-!) 
 
 Ask tor an anodyne — as, lo! one prays 
 Thy couch beside — the minister of Jcsu's praise! 
 
 LII. 
 
 An anodyne, such as the Papist culls 
 
 From out his store of Home's gold-purchas'd prayers ; CT 
 And 'mid the anguish of death's chamber lulls 
 
 The groaning spirit with a hope like theirs, 
 Who, mid the throng of earth's bewildering cares, 
 
 Think to recover all their wealth and peace 
 By plunging deeper 'neath the hidden snares 
 
 Which Satan lays ; — nor thence is found release, 
 Save thro' the dread decree of Him who bids life cease ! 
 
 LIII. 
 
 No, recreant sinner! thou who hast defied 
 
 Thy Saviour and thy God, — no longer gold, 
 Nor -Kill of man, oor prayer of priest beside, 
 
 Can in thy wasting form health's tide uphold; 
 lint by thine anguish and by conscience told, 
 
 Torn with remorse, and panting with disease, 
 Thou in the realms of Satan's awe-struck fold 
 
 Wilt find that \< ogeance which thy fortune's ease 
 Forbad to think should e'er entail such woes as these
 
 Canto I.] MADNESS. 19 
 
 LIV. 
 
 But, Christian reader ! — thou whom gracious love, 
 
 By Christ's own power hath rear'd a holier fane — 
 Thou from whom sighs and tears the saints above 
 
 Delight to prove Heaven's music with a strain 
 That knows no ill, nor sympathy's sweet pain ; 
 
 But not unmindful of earth's latent woes, 
 Re-echoing tell the joyful note again, 
 
 " A sister weeps — a brother mourns for those 
 " Whose hidden grief that final day shall yet disclose !" 
 
 LV. 
 
 As rolls the sea around this favour'd isle, 
 
 So universal is the source of pangs 
 The maniac only knows ! — o'er rich man's smile 
 
 As sordid gold, or titled rank, that hangs 
 Like tatter'd vesture bearing serpent fangs 
 
 If with this badge of station and of power, 
 He of himself alone thinks aye, — with twangs 
 
 Of scorpion sting, neglected duties lour, 
 And thunder in his frighted ear : — " Now is thine hour !" 
 
 LIV. 
 
 "The hour decreed of retribution's law! 
 
 " Thou, like the Dives of the gospel tale, 
 " Must from the torments of the future draw 
 
 " Such venom'd truths as thy sad thoughts entail 
 " Of memory undestroyed ! — and 'mid the gale 
 
 Of Hell's triumphant storm, as 'neath her realm 
 Thy pallid look, with madd'ning horrors quail, 
 " And while each hope thy countless sins o'erwhelm, 
 "No friend nor brother then, nor Christ to guide the helm !" 
 
 c 2 
 
 ce ' 
 
 *
 
 20 MADNESS. [Cawto I 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Then, Island bard, sound forth the nntouch'd lay, 
 
 And pour amid the Listening crowd thy soi 
 Harp of the [sle! Attune to Jesu's da; 
 
 Thy latent music, — silent thus so long — 
 Wake to the sorrows that man's ills among 
 
 Have least engaged the sympathetic tear — 
 Those griefs conccal'd from fortune's reckless throng ; 
 
 For in prophetic guise these strains appear 
 To note that mental woes shall wax each coming year. 
 
 ♦
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 Requisites for an Asylum — Cheerful and beautiful scenery — Seclusion 
 — Light — Healthiness of situation — Management — Sufficient number 
 and more intelligent attendants — Skilful and periodical medical 
 attendance — Exercise — In-doors employment — Large day-rooms — 
 Importance of watching patients individually as to exercise — Re- 
 ligious service.
 
 23 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 i. 
 
 If Crabbe hath sought to fill his prurient song 
 
 With many a scene descriptive of distress, 
 And from or village cot, or workhouse throng, 
 
 T' exhume disease's loathed wretchedness, 
 Samarian like, to make those sorrows less ; — 
 
 Sure 'twill not anger Christian minds to scan 
 A maniac's home, and from that home to guess 
 
 How little kens the world of wisdom's plan 
 To rouse the senseless, and subdue the furious man. 
 
 n. 
 
 And if, as much we fear, the coming age 29 
 
 Shall teem with woes beyond all former pains ; 
 If then, as truth declares in God's own page, 
 
 Earth yet hath much to come of sin's dark stains, 
 Yes, much of fearful darkness, and hope wanes 
 
 Spite of the intellectual glories of the age — 
 Yes, wanes ! and as the crescent moon regains 
 
 No increas'd light till round this globe she play 
 Her destin'd dance, and sweep thro' heaven her silent way ;
 
 24 m.Min l SS [Canto II- 
 
 III. 
 
 Nor hope, nor means to lessen maniac woes 
 
 Remain on earth, 'till sin's triumphant course, 
 By powers Almighty crushing Jesu's foes, 
 
 Come to the rescue, — man's alone resource 
 For guilt ; and sin, alas! is e'er the source ! 
 
 What tho' the aid of med'eine and of bands 
 May sometimes serve to check the madman's force, 
 
 Yet 'tis but little art's most skilful hands 
 Can do to stem fierce frenzy's tide o'er mortal sands! 
 
 IV. 
 
 That little be it now the muse's task, 
 
 In simple strain of sad experience, 
 1 lere to trace out, and of his reader ask 
 
 A mind unbiassed, and a heart from whence 
 Flow tears of sympathy. Oh then ! dispense 
 
 We pray thee, Father of all good and power, 
 That clearer sight of sin's deep ills, that hence 
 
 Some future age — some purer, brighter hour, 
 May Bean this verse, and own that Christ is wisdom's dow'r! 
 
 v. 
 
 If to thine car, poor child of mortal joys, 
 
 Such language seem but mystery unrcvcal'd, 
 If 'mid the whirring of time's idle toys 
 
 Thy soid no accents of delight can yield, 
 For coming glory, that shall sow the field 
 
 Of future years with sinless peace and love, 
 Close then the page ! — from thee indeed conccal'd 
 
 Its latent visions of a bliss above 
 All that of present sight or sense our hearts can move I
 
 Canto II.] MADNESS. 25 
 
 VI. 
 
 Return, then, minstrel to thy promised strain 
 
 Of what poor man in earnest prayer and hope 
 Can do for senseless ones of sexes twain ; 
 
 For ah, too true ! amid the gathering scope 
 Of mental ills, our gentler sisters 30 grope 
 
 Their dark'ning way in throngs most numerous ; — so 
 Past records tell : — nor can proud reason cope 
 
 In woman's weaker frame with maniac woe, 
 As in the stronger breast of Adam's sons below. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Then first, oh thou, by fortune kindly blest, 31 
 
 And led, in sympathetic love for these, 
 The outcasts of the social world, t' invest 
 
 Thy cankering gold in schemes that God may please, 
 Go search the land, and where earth's fairest trees 
 
 And greenest shrubs adorn the varying ground, 
 There choose thy site ; and more at leisure's ease 
 
 Survey each swelling knoll the scene around, 
 That opens to the mind some cheerful sight and sound. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But not on naked hill, or in a town, 
 
 Select thine Eden of Samarian cure ; 
 From these more wisely thou with thankless frown 
 
 Wilt turn thy step: — but next in air most pure 
 Fail not to choose thy rest ; — since here endure 
 
 The longest struggles of the mortal frame ; 
 For 'tis not thine 'gainst sickness to ensure 
 
 Or raise from sin's dark embers reason's flame, 
 Except thy mansion gain, for health, deserved fame.
 
 26 N ' LDNB88 [Cask. II. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Seclusion, then, — but plenteous streams of light, 
 
 Pouring with radiant beam the window through, 
 Musi mark thy castle fair; with groves bedight 
 
 And meads of softest green, and sprightly view 
 Of distant scenes ; — a village spire or two, 
 
 And aught that can with sanity unite 
 A healthier look at life. Thus wisely do, 
 
 And well thy labours fortune shall requite 
 With well-earn'd gold; and time, the lost ones mental sight. 
 
 x. 
 
 But add to these, (and seek them from afar,) 
 
 Attendants 3 - on thy will, for task design'd 
 To watch and wait on all : not that they are 
 
 By money to be taught diseases of the mind ; 
 But 'tis not selfish ones that e'er shall find 
 
 .Mid education's sons that fitting store 
 Of knowledge and of life with love entwined, 
 
 Which opes of memory's crowded cells each door, 
 By whom thou mayst a patient's long lost joys restore. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Much hath the muse on this important theme 
 
 Which she could pour thro' many a ling'ring verse ; 
 But let the hint suffice — nor falsely deem 
 
 That hint in anger sent past faults to curse ; 
 But since your keepers with nor mind, nor purse, 
 
 Too oft essay by bonds to stay and calm 
 A writhing sufferer — well may rehearse 
 
 The minstrel sad those cautions that embalm 
 
 pathy's blest tears, and yield a soothing balm.
 
 Canto II.] MADNESS. 27 
 
 XII. 
 He that with anger meets a madman's wrath, 
 
 Adds to the flame his judgment should subdue : 
 None, save a fool, would brave a lion's path, 
 
 When, mid the pangs of hunger, full in view 
 A heifer stands — but would that jaw eschew : 
 
 So when the rising flood of passion swells 
 And in the restless brain to mem'ry true 
 
 Each pictured scene some real suff'ring tells 
 To him not less than Eden's joys or fancy's hells; 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Choose then, oh thou, whose sovereign presence reigns 
 
 Amid the halls, the chambers, and the grounds 
 Of this thy chosen seat — him who nor chains 
 
 Nor force delights in ; but whose love surrounds 
 Each sorrowing one — and to the utmost bounds 
 
 Of prudent safety, would in mercy throw 
 The gentlest veil 33 — and whilst a fool impounds 
 
 His victims dread in bondage and in woe, 
 He, to his aid would bid each milder accent flow. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Nor yet, forgetful of that needful skill 
 
 Which health the body's waning strength requires, 
 Neglect not med'cine to provide ; and fill 
 
 Thy stores with drugs and draught that rest inspires: 
 For tho' not to physician's 3 * art, the fires 
 
 Of madness yield their force, yet must he scan 
 Of nature's secret laws, ere life expires, 
 
 Each latent symptom, and with judgment plan, 
 Such soothing aid as mortal's human wisdom can.
 
 28 MADNESS [Cahto II. 
 
 XV. 
 
 i far thy care in each particular course 
 
 I- well bestowed; — but neither physic's aid 
 Kor diet treatment, thou may'st here enforce 
 
 Will health restore, if maniacs are not made — 
 Aye, urg'd by means resistless — to walk the shade, 
 
 Or strike the bounding ball, or use the arms 
 In labours healthful, and with hoe or spade 
 
 ( Hear well the recreant weed, or fence from harms 
 The tender plant, and screen th' exotic's embryo charms. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Yes ! of all boons to man in mercy given 
 
 Since Adam's fall, be labour still the chief ; 
 For shunning thee, bly the exercise, 35 man 's driven 
 
 To moping idleness for sad relief 
 From ills of fancy's birth — the child of woe 
 
 Sinks to supineness — lost to memory's sense 
 Of once imagined bliss — he turns each leaf 
 
 Of open book with careless hand, nor thence 
 Can learning's boasted aid restoratives dispense. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Say'st thou that storms and winter's blasts deny 
 
 The walk, the game, or exercise in field ? — 
 Think not therefore that his powers should lie 
 
 In dormant sloth, — nor day-rooms' areas yield 
 Full exercise ; — and be it ne'er conceal'd 
 
 That spacious rooms, alike for light and air, 
 Are needed here ; but most that uncongeal'd 
 
 The torpid blood may motion's blessings share, 
 And sure within the mansion's bound such boon is there.
 
 Canto II.] MADNESS. 29 
 
 XVIII 
 
 Next to the active walk, fail not to store 
 
 Thy table with amusements, 36 such as men 
 May well indulge ! — the chequer'd board, — and floor 
 
 Mark'd with its points for bowling ; and again 
 The level surface of the smooth green pen 
 
 In which the ivory globe with impulse sure 
 First strikes the red ball's martial side, and then 
 
 Each after other thus the balls endure 
 The well urged blow, and reach the number'd sockets pure. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Yes ! soothing game, the " bagatelle board" hight, 
 
 Full many an hour of weariness and woe, 
 This anger'd mind, 'mid scenes of tempting light 
 
 Has spent in striking with no skill-less blow 
 The errant ball of ivory — and so — 
 
 Has 'scaped of ills a sadly lengthen'd train, 
 That else had bid its wearying moments flow 
 
 'Mong retrospections drear : thus then would fain 
 The maddening bosom seek a brief retreat from pain. 
 
 xx. 
 
 Nor, were the bard possess'd of such retreat, 
 
 Should long the billiard table wait his call. 
 Let not the tame professor think that cheat, 
 
 Or gambler's name, is fix'd to breast of all 
 Who urge with careless hand the spheric ball : — 
 
 No : — 'tis of this as thousand sins beside; 
 We make them ills : — and then what woes befall, 
 
 Or fortune's loss, or mind's best peace betide, 
 We fancy in green table and its balls reside.
 
 30 MADM 38 [Canto II. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Away (hen, timid one; — it boots not me 
 
 Whether or bagatelle or billiards' name 
 Be gWn the board — since tbcre I know and sec 
 
 A sanitary influence in the game; 
 And a^k not thee if merit or if blame 
 
 Attend these sports innocuous — since nor gold 
 Alloys its purpose ; — nor for idle fame 
 
 Push we the spheres minute — but these uphold 
 The spirits weak, and gently too the mind unfold. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 These various games, or such as these, we need, 
 
 To rouse the dormant sense, and stir its fires; 
 And though 'tis not in mortal hands to speed 
 
 A cure, 'tis well if sport some joy inspires: 
 And oh! how needful 'tis that hope conspires 
 
 With calmer patience to subdue the vein 
 Of passion's blood excited; — when retires 
 
 Sweet sympathy, and self is left to gain 
 Its bitter portion of defeat, distrust and pain ! 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Nor is 't enough such measures to provide ; 
 
 A mind well skill'd in maniac woes will sec, 
 That oft his patient needs a gentle guide 
 
 To win him on; — nor play nor walk will he 
 Seek of himself always; — but sympatli; 
 
 ('an soon discern the bent, the will conceal'd 
 'Neath fantasy and pride ; — and easily 
 
 May warm the heart by apathy congeabd, 
 And rouse to think, him who to 3-Iorpheus' arms could yield.
 
 Canto II.] MADNESS. 31 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 What more remains of righteous means to cure 
 
 This mortal ill ? — Say, shall the bard still sing 
 Of other duties — gentle, kind, and pure ? 
 
 No; needless were the longer lay to bring 
 More pictur'd scale of requisites ; — one thing, 
 
 And one alone, still lives for him to say; 
 'Tis not enough that kingdoms have a king 
 
 If men obey him not : — so, in the day 
 Of thy experiment — remember that all pray ! 38 
 
 XXV. 
 
 'Tis not for bards to sing of creeds 39 or forms, 
 
 Or mark the line which, in a house like this, 
 'Twere well to take — since real love conforms 
 
 To all that Heaven assigns — nor aught amiss 
 Deems he the pray'rful language, though not his, 
 
 Which in that house his gracious God prepares ; 
 In truth of heart alone consists our bliss — 
 
 And Catholic or Quaker, this is theirs 
 Who join in peace and love th'accustom'd household prayers. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Nathless, some form of worship or of prayer 
 
 The Christian Master of this maniac throng 
 Will deem it right, no doubt, t' establish there ; — 
 
 Nor yet withhold the peace-inspiring song — 
 That sacred song attun'd to Christ, and long 
 
 Vibrating on the lip of love, breathes loud 
 The animating chorus ! — thus among 
 
 The votive lips, or ever silent crowd, 
 Is God ador'd and His eternal truth avow'd.
 
 32 m LDN EB8. # [Cabtto [I. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Oli ! 'twere B sin surpassing all beside, 
 
 I finid the regions of distorted minds, 
 Not prayer nor hymn to soften erring pride, 
 
 Hose on the memory, which* Sorrow hinds 
 In darkening chains, aifd madness only finds; — 
 
 If mid disease and sin's, unconscious deeds 
 Hope dwelt not here, — while thro' this vale man winds 
 
 His faltering way to death, — and silent pleads 
 . .His Saviour's blood, and there his glorious pardon reads. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Yes ! hath the Bible breath'd its sweets in vain, 
 
 If in the maniacs' hall no sound were heard 
 Of Gospel truth ; — no supplicating strain 
 
 Of anxious hope, or grateful love preferred 
 To Him whose mercy graciously hath stirr'd 
 
 Bethesda's pool, and bid the mourner in, 
 That he by faith his healed loins may gird, 
 
 And there — not less from soul-destroying sin 
 Than body's ills redeem'd — his rapt'rous lay begin. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Oh ! is it then that from one British roof, 
 
 A Christian family — or one so nam'd, 
 The sacred word of Christ arc kept aloof, 
 
 And schools for science, as for learning, famed 
 Ne'er heard the sound of holy love ; — but tamed 
 
 By man's imperfect art, 40 the reckless boy 
 Just freed from this defective mode, ill framed — 
 
 A code of morals 41 such as laws employ 
 To bind a harden'd thief, or murderer's arm destroy ! 
 2
 
 Canto II.] „ MADNESS. 33 
 
 \ 
 
 XXX. 
 
 For me ! when I forget the God who gave 
 
 The Bible forth — and in or hall or school 
 Neglect on bended knee his grace to crave, 
 
 And madly resting— like that faithless fool 
 With sin encrusted, who abjur'd the pool 
 
 Where he might lave and live — -on self's lost power, 
 Might not that God my tongue forbear to cool 
 
 In that tremendous and eternal hour, 
 When to thy judgment call'd, Christ's angry eye-shall lour! 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Say'st thou that this is judging ? 42 — and that they 
 
 Who thus in judgment sit, must first redeem 
 Themselves from sin and wrath — Ah ! proud one, say, 
 
 Is that thine only plea to bar the theme 
 From entrance to thy breast ? — 'Tis folly's scheme 
 
 T' evade the truths that Jesus came to seal ! 
 What tho' a heart polluted in the extreme 
 
 May throb within this 43 breast ;— can Christ not heal 
 Each wound ; and 'mid remorse's pangs his love reveal? 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Then worldlings' child avaunt ! thy madd'ning love 
 
 For self-wrought schemes of bliss shall never find 
 Aught else than hate from me : — for, from above, 
 
 In language of that Holy Book, I'll bind 
 Thy sophistry .—Yes! spite of B*******'s mind, 44 
 
 Or they who in Edina's classic page 45 
 Defied their God ! — and (ignorance most blind !) 
 
 With shameless critics eulogy engage 
 Their deist-pens to laud this bantling of the age ! 
 
 D
 
 ..( \i IDNBSS. [CAHTO II. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 But. muse, thy devious step its path retrace, 
 
 And leaving to their own, their self-born king — 
 These vaunting sons of art's proud lore, — give place 
 
 To worthier themes. — In higher accents sing 
 Than science, 'mid these blighted scenes, can bring — 
 
 Oh ! to the furthest verge of earth seek flight 
 From pride pestiferous — hateful thing ! 
 
 And yet 'tis nought but this excludes from light 
 These schools — from gospel truth, destructive as'tis bright. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Whate'cr 'mid seats of learning or of art 
 
 Be man's decree — or genius' lofty will — 
 With these a Saviour's love can bear no part; — 
 
 A child-like 46 heart best suits his heavenly skill, 
 To cure and to exalt o'er every ill ! 
 
 Think ye not e'er of that eventful day, 
 When, in the clouds of glory, he shall fill 
 
 His destin'd office, Jesus then will lay 
 Your pride-begotten sons fast bound in Satan's way ! 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 And arc we truth from thy weak eye to shield, 
 
 Lest so frail, so fragile form as thou 
 Shall to its ray- thy waxen follies yield, 
 
 And thou, for once, thyself a saint avow ? 
 Forbid it Heaven ! — forbid it all we owe 
 
 To Jcsu's blood — that thro' that stagnant pool 
 Of self-born pride, we suffer sin to flow, 
 
 Nor seek to drag the vainly glorying fool 
 From his bemiring woes, and place at wisdom's school.
 
 Canto II.] MADNESS. 35 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Yes, hold, blest muse ; — since other themes attract 
 
 Thy bold career ; — and to the coverts drear 
 Of self-crown'd wisdom, leave this brood compact 
 
 Of pride's own sons ! — nor deign to drop one tear 
 O'er those who, though Immanuel yet is near, 
 
 Confess him not ; — and liberal in th' extreme, 
 Entrust their youthful charge (to Christ so dear !) 
 
 Without or guide or grace in lore's vast theme, 
 To regulate the heart, or check youth's wanton stream. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Proud man, adieu ! — and since to thee suffice 
 
 The rules scholastic of a man-built code, 
 We '11 leave to God — to him— the cankering vice, 
 
 In future days to tell the safer road 
 For souls to travel toward their high abode — 
 
 Whether without or Bible, or e'en hope 
 Of wisdom's grace, the child of man e'er trode 
 
 The heavenward path, — or boys to self's dread scope 
 By tutors left, and, ah ! 'mid nature's lusts to grope. 
 
 d2
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 Description of d******** — Its romantic attractions and lovely 
 seclusion, so near an important central mart of business — Spacious- 
 ness of apartments — Moral and religious management.
 
 39 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 I. 
 
 'Tis evening's milder reign ; — yon sun retires, 
 
 And lengthening shadows sweep across the green ; 
 Sounds are less busy, and in sleep expires 
 
 The infant's prattling tongue. — Now scarcely seen 
 The chief himself, whose labours intervene 
 
 With welcome leisure, hies him forth to breathe 
 The summer's fragrant air ; — and if that scene 
 By patriarch painted, or in Milton's wreath 
 Were e'er descried on earth, 'tis D********'s * 7 groves be- 
 neath. 
 
 ii. 
 But hark ! what distant swell of unwish'd sounds 
 That steal athwart the ear, and mar our peace ? 
 Ah ! 'tis from hateful man's unwelcome bounds, 
 
 That murmuring noise — from B*********'s 48 increase 
 Of voices, and of arts of war and peace. 
 
 Oh ! thrice unwelcome is the sound from thee, 
 Mart of all wickedness ! — whose ills ne'er cease, 
 Since 'mong its Saviour's few, how scant we see 
 The seeds of good; — how rife of sad depravity !
 
 40 MAI»\ i 38. [Cahto III. 
 
 in. 
 Yes ! triad, we grant there arc a righteous few 
 
 Whose faith, and love, and deeds, bespeak them thine, 
 Redeemer, Christ !— Ah yes ! dear M**** 4( -> is true 
 
 To England's Church, and England's Royal Vine ; 
 For lo ! his words with mildest love entwine 
 
 Each theme they grace ; — whether of Afric's woe, 
 Or missionary zeal, or Brunswick's line, 
 
 Of glories he descant, the Christian flow 
 Of eloquence is his ; — and may it e'er be so ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Nor thee forgotten, M*****, ^ in that throng 
 
 Of sainted ones, who yet redeem the town : 
 Thy spirit, nerv'd by fervour pure as strong, 
 
 Could meekly brave those demon voices down ; 
 And, with a courage faith alone could crown, 
 
 Withheld thine hand from that unrighteous deed, 
 Alike unworthy of thy birth and gown, 
 
 When, howling forth their passions' hate, they heed 
 Nor place nor person, so their cause illegal speed. 
 
 v. 
 Mid walls devoted to truth's heavenly song, 
 
 Evangelizing sin, and cheering those 
 Whom God yet owns these maddening scenes among, 
 
 And gives to smile with pity on her foes. 
 But when their animus they thus disclose, 
 
 And deist ravings pour upon the ear, 
 God held thy spirit up — did interpose 
 
 With arm divine, nor bid thee then to fear 
 Their thrcatenings vain. — Yes! M* '*, Jesus still was near.
 
 Canto III.] MADNESS. 41 
 
 VI. 
 
 But other themes demand the minstrel's lay, 
 
 And leave to hope the combat with despair ! 
 Though think not, M**** or M*****, that the day 
 
 Is yet gone past when you the frequent prayer 
 Can long withhold ; — or classic J****5i ma y e ' er 
 
 Forget his Christian armour in faith's course 
 To Zion's triumphs ; — each and all must share 
 
 The stirring conflict, and with Christ's own force 
 Of grace and life's example, stanch rebellion's source. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Oh ! if of these, the faithful and the few, 
 
 The bard scarce ventures to reveal his praise, 
 How shall, alas ! he hold to public view 
 
 The semblances of those, whose lengthen'd days 
 Seem but the awful sign of God's displays 
 
 Of wrath upon the earth ? — But fear not, muse ; 
 That Power above which guides yon orb can raise 
 
 His legions, and defeat the base-born views 
 Of man's rebellious pride, — and his low hopes confuse. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Nor let their names the minstrel's volume stain. 
 
 Oh ! 'tis enough to give the theme a place ; — 
 But doing so — 'twere impotent as vain 
 
 To screen those erring ones : — with praises grace 
 Th' assuming semblance of that heavenly face 
 
 Which beam'd on earth that we might live on high : 
 Ah ! think it not, mine angel muse, — disgrace 
 
 So recreant ne'er shall shame thy Christian eye, 
 But in truth's anger let us these ingrates defy !
 
 42 HADN ESS [Cavto III. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Save to denounce, 'tis waste of time and sense 
 
 On infidels to pour a Christian lay ; — 
 They nor to Bible nor to Heaven dispense 
 
 Their vote of thanks; — nor to the world display 
 That in their self-born intellectual day 
 
 One spark of wisdom's hcav'nly light is found. 
 All, all, with them, is liberty ! — so say, 
 
 And sang the demon fools on France's ground, 
 Till God's avenging wrath their councils did confound. 
 
 x. 
 
 Ye baneful ones ! — your union is of hell ; 
 
 No fitter source in man can give it birth ! 
 The future, and not distant too, shall tell 
 
 What fated souls led on the dance of earth, 
 And for mock sovereignty, the spirit's worth 
 
 Gave to their own, their self-engendered pride, 
 That anarchy, not wisdom, which stalks forth 
 
 W ith infidel defiance for its guide, 
 To take God's rest, the heart, and Jcsu's lambs deride ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Oh ! B* ######## , pride of the world in art, 
 
 Much do I fear some fated doom awaits 
 Thy wide-spread streets and innocent of heart, 
 
 Unless from out thy crowd-bethronging gates 
 They chase those evil ones ! — or by love's baits 
 
 Such as our Lord held forth when he address'd 
 The listening multitude, and to all states 
 
 Beatitudes dispens'd ; — yes, to each breast 
 That rests its care on Him who bids the "meek" be blest. 
 
 1
 
 Canto III.] MADNESS. 43 
 
 XII. 
 And would that politics alone could hide 
 
 Th' abhorrent sins that stain thy far-famed town ! 
 Alas ! much deeper, deadlier ills abide 
 
 Thy chilling creed, Socinus ; and the frown 
 Of Deity will yet — ah yet ! come down 
 
 On some who boast the oneness of that creed, 
 Alas ! we fear, but few whose earthly crown 
 
 Of self-born virtue and of lore shall speed 
 Their spirit's safety; — or with Christ their claims can plead. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 But hateful theme, adieu! — back to thy shades 
 
 Loved D******** ? call again the devious muse, 
 And 'mong these verdant banks and cooling glades 
 
 Seek where, 'mid its sequester'd scenes to chuse 
 A blest repose, nor fancy's aid refuse. 
 
 Thus as at eventide the gentle stroll 
 Or seat recumbent tempt, ere yet night's dews 
 
 Have fallen, the silent meditating soul 
 Shall give each thoughtrelease, nor own man's weak controul. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Come then, fond lyre, and tune thy vagrant strings 
 
 To rapturous joy, as thus the muse essays 
 To paint each landscape, rich with loveliest things ; 
 
 Pourtray the tangled woods' umbrageous ways, 
 And tread the waters' brinks, whose breast displays 
 
 The clear reflected image of each tree, 
 Each shrub luxuriant, and the mansion lays 
 
 Inverted in its calmer brilliancy — 
 A scene to painters dear, nor less to poesy !
 
 1 i MADNESS [Cakto HI. 
 
 xv. 
 Lo ! scarce a furlong's length from busy verge 
 
 Of yonder town, th' observant eye discerns 
 A wooded belt, to where the waters urge 
 
 In S******'s vale, the ceaseless wheel: — then turns 
 Irregular the eastern bound — and earns 
 
 By northern sweep of wood, the broad highway 
 To B*******'s noble house, — and thence returns 
 
 Along the narrow grove, to bold display 
 Of D****** *' s Hall, seen but in winter's leafless day. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Thus onward soon we reach the lodge's gate, 
 
 Fast by yon railway's bridge, — and down the sweep, 
 Which to the mansion leads in lordly state, 
 
 Return ; — but not by inclination steep ; 
 For gently downwards doth its borders keep 
 
 The drive, and soon the doric portal gain, 
 Where art's proud columns rear their head, and weep 
 
 (If ought of stone can weep) o'er many a pain, 
 Of latent ill that here hath woke the minstrel's strain. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Association blest ! — much do we owe 
 
 To thine electric power o'er memory's field : 
 That doric porch a pleasure can bestow 
 
 Unseen by careless eye ; — delights can yield 
 Known best to him, whom fortune's golden shield 
 
 Protects from cankering care — as, Hope, in thee, 
 Or Burlington in bygone days — when, steel'd 
 
 'Gainst critic's laugh — your clearer eye could see 
 In architecture's noble forms a latent majesty.
 
 Canto III ] MADNESS. 45 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 A feeling of the beauteous and the chaste 
 
 Will spurn the staring fabric e'er so fine ; — 
 Inspir'd by travel and by innate taste, 
 
 Will give to earth the free but pure design ; 
 And from the Doric to Corinthian line 
 
 Display each beauty of its magic skill ; 
 Nor would the muse to cottage space consign 
 
 The nobler Gothic ! — or cathedral fill 
 With house-like semblances on ancient Durham's hill. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 But stay, the verse digressive! — gently leave 
 
 The mansion's site, and by yon path along 
 The upland lawn, our winding course so weave 
 
 That soon its trace the sylvan mass among, 
 Brings solitude's delighting rest — where song 
 
 Of winged choristers awaits the ear, 
 And far estranged, from man's tumultuous throng, 
 
 The mind attuned to peace, breeds nought of fear, 
 But joyously can smile, or drop the silent tear ! 
 
 xx. 
 
 Now to the thick and lofty wood beyond 
 
 We wend our way, and, thankful for the shade, 
 Rest here awhile— to memory's notes respond 
 
 The busy tongue — then seek the opening glade 
 Fast by the water's brink, when lo ! array'd 
 
 In all the varied richness of the grove, 
 Behold its wood-crown'd margin. — Here survey 'd 
 
 By many a youthful eye, hath G # * # * # 's love 
 Full oft, I ween, breathed gratitude to God above.
 
 16 M LDH I.--. I \NTO III. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Yea ! and amid the young, the happy, thou, 
 
 1 displaying still a nobly pious mind, 
 The poet hails with blessings, and could vow 
 
 Almost, for thee, that though to wrath consigned 
 By erring hearts, this ardent soul would bind 
 
 Its earthly lot to these secluded scenes, 
 Nor e'er forget that to thy pen refined 
 
 lie owes delights, no sophist contravenes, 
 For 'mid Port Royal's saints, nought sinful intervenes. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Their holy walk and holier love for Him 
 
 W ho died to save, to consecrate and bless, 
 Still lives in memory's stream, nor idly swim 
 
 That record's deeds of patient zeal — nor less 
 When persecution raged did they confess 
 
 Their Lord, and ask, for enemies, as friends, 
 His love forgiving! — Christ their happiness: 
 
 And though 'twere right that Howard not expends, 
 Unknown, his Godlike toil — nor Wesley so contends 
 
 xxni. 
 W ith England's recreant Church, of much now clear'd, 
 
 That then his apostolic spirit pain'd, 
 Yet say not thou, whom throngs and cities rear'd 
 
 In densest mass can charm, that nought is gain'd 
 From out the walls of convents, nor e'er train'd 
 
 To Ileav'n the daughters of a Saving Lord ; 
 \N e meet thine erring voice, by self-enchain'd, 
 
 And point to these ; and to their lives accord 
 The meed of holiness — in thought, and deed, and word.
 
 Canto III.] MADNESS. 47 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 But peace to them ! — And now along the bank 
 
 Our vagrant steps we bend to yonder fane, 
 The " temple " hight — 'neath which a stream full dark 
 
 Flows to the mill adjacent— and in vain 
 Each purifying effort. — Here again 
 
 The Bard, in sorrow's flight, assails yon town ; 
 For from its defiling walls, in pain, 
 
 The minstrel traces aye its current down 
 To D**** #### 's loveliest scenes, and scarce withholds a 
 frown. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Hold, busy cogitation ! — or, alas! 
 
 This turbid lake from its polluted stream 
 Might well for man's humiliation pass, 
 
 As simile of souls where truth's pure beam 
 Of heavenly grace yet probes not with its gleam 
 
 The darksome caves below : — but like the breast 
 Where sin and self in dominance supreme 
 
 Reign wantonly by Jesu's love unblest, 
 Nor morn, nor noon, nor eve, knows purity or rest ! 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 But on : — to scenes more peaceful and divine, 
 
 Now thro' the o'er-arching trees we slowly pace, 
 And by the water's verge, a devious line 
 
 Pursue, and in its glassy surface trace 
 Each clear reflected line of fabric's face, 
 
 That sleeps in stillness there, and woos the art 
 Of painter to display. Would that the race 
 
 Were peaceful as the joy their tints impart, 
 How would it bless the artist's as the gazer's heart
 
 [8 \i.\i.\ , [Cahto hi. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 in advance, the distant opening glade 
 Attracts th' observant eye, and forth we go 
 last by the ivied dairy — so display 'd 
 
 By tasteful hand, that well its form might shew 
 Some rude piled monument ; — thence onward slow 
 
 We reach the lower lake, where, stored with plants 
 Aquatic, its deep bosom can bestow 
 
 All that for ornament or use man wants, 
 And, rich with finned race, the angler's heart enchants. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 But ah ! what lovely spot is this — so green 
 
 And yet bedecked with many a graceful flower? 
 W hat magic hand hath rcar'd this fairy scene, 
 
 And given to earth another Eden's bower 
 To charm the eye, and glad the vacant hour? — 
 
 Here may the thoughtful soul in peace enjoy 
 Its welcome leisure ; build its fancied tower 
 
 Of life's expectant bliss ; or plcas'd employ 
 Its floral taste in sympathy with nature's joy. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 For lo ! from out yon temple we descry, 
 
 Spread as a carpet of luxuriant sweets, 
 A garden fair — enchanting to the eye 
 
 Of woodlands fond; since there its vision meets 
 All beauteous objects; — far from custom'd seats 
 
 This gay parterre, with verdant walks cntwin'd, 
 And by the glade and grove encircled, greets 
 
 In loveliest solitude the peaceful mind ; 
 lit scene for bards to meditative flight inclined !
 
 Canto III.] MADNESS. 49 
 
 XXX. 
 
 But whither tends that path ? Let us explore 
 
 Its latent purpose, and through laurels go 
 Our circuit to the left, and scenes before 
 
 Thus hidden quite, are now reveaPd; for, lo! 
 By art contrived, a limpid streamlet's flow 
 
 Forth from the ground in liquid silence glides, 
 And through its metal tube with current slow 
 
 Pours e'er its bracing waters, through the sides 
 Of artificial basin, and a bath provides. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 A scene to memory dear ! — And, now, behold 
 
 Th' unfading rhododendron's splendid bloom 
 Encircling shade its fence ; — and yet the gold 
 
 Of gay laburnum pendant shines ;— no tomb 
 Is here, as in the neighbouring wood — nor gloom 
 
 Of dark'ning waters ; — all as day is light ; 
 For here, instead of close-shut marble room, 
 
 The sky — our sole pavilion — glads the sight, 
 And all around with nature's richest charms is dight. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 At summer's early morn, these limbs full oft 
 
 Have sought the brink of that cool fount, and sprung, 
 Delighted, in ; — no art-made couch so soft, — 
 
 While with ecstatic cry the grove-walks rung : 
 Then, as emerging from the wave were flung 
 
 These wanton arms around, — the surface gain'd, 
 With clamorous chaunts of bathers' joyous tongue 
 
 Proclaim'd his triumph o'er the traffic stain'd 
 And restless city's sons, and health's strong nerve maintain'd. 
 
 E
 
 M \|)\ I [Cakto III. 
 
 xxx in. 
 Right well the bard of* nature's laws declares 
 
 That " from the body's purity, the mind 
 " Receives a sympathetic aid," — and shares 
 
 The invigorating influence that, combin'd 
 ^Vi 1 1 1 light, and air, and cheerfulness entwin'd 
 
 Hound every feeling, gives a bracing tone 
 To nerves unstrung — by busy cares confined: 
 
 Then hail to thee, the Naiades' sparkling throne, 
 Blest source of health-born joys to bathers only known. 
 
 <[V. 
 
 But now the path resume ; and from yon scat 
 
 Turn northward toward that fav'rite circular walk, 
 Whose gentle sweep, where trees o'cr-arching meet, 
 
 Is richly margin'd with each tendril stalk 
 Or rose luxuriant; — there with friendly talk 
 
 Beguile the fleeting moments as they speed, 
 And brooding care with cheerful accents balk ; 
 
 Yes] in each shrub, each graceful floweret read 
 A God whose power and love e'en infidels concede! 
 
 xx 
 \"\ here ends the sweep, an orchard's ground, besides 
 
 Two gardens wallM, to various use consign'd, 
 \ ilbrd secure retreat, where sorrow hides 
 
 Her Intent pangs, and patient's unstrung mind, 
 By vig'rous exercise may blessings find, 
 
 Within the enclosure of these tree-clad walls; 
 For, ali! in truth — the minstrel's woes behind, — 
 
 lie now call Bing of what the breast befalls 
 Of him who treads these walks, and memory's griefs recalls.
 
 Canto III.] MADNESS. 51 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 How many an hour, to anxious strugglings given! 
 
 Have urged these limbs around that measured course ! 
 And while from life's best gifts reluctant driven, 
 
 Hath wisdom's voice to patience added force, 
 And traced each sorrow to its heavenly source — 
 
 The Godhead's will supreme. — Nor vagrant eye, 
 Nor idle tongue — (whose absence to enforce 
 
 Is needful e'er,) permitted here to try 
 The excited one ;■ — a blissful quietude is nigh. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 And now from out the gardens, where yon fields 
 
 Adjacent spread their verdure, walk ; for here 
 At cricket or at quoits the meadow yields 
 
 Each health-fraught game; nor does the mourning tear 
 Disturb the fair — as forth, when skies are clear, 
 
 They gently stroll, and hail Sol's brighter day, 
 To tread the grassy mead, and without fear, 
 
 At distance gaze on crowds that throng the way, 
 Unconscious of the woes in freedom they survey. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Here, too, when summer's early sun doth speed 
 
 His radiant heat along the teeming earth ; 
 When sweeping scythe hath rased the unfed mead, 
 
 And spread the sward with nature's fragrant birth, 
 Full many a scene of childhood's gayest mirth 
 
 Attracts the eye, and wins the tardy smile 
 Of maniac fair; — a scene and smile well worth 
 
 The richest gems — for, ah ! it doth beguile 
 Woe's anguish'd breast, andchase each grief the happy while. 
 
 e 2
 
 5-J M \ 1 » V I !8S [Canto III. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 But still another vision crowns the whole : — 
 
 With railway course, the D******** meads are lined; 
 And as the rapid chariots thundering roll 
 
 Along their metal way, the vagrant mind 
 Feels oft a thrill, with novelty combined, 
 
 That wakes its dormant energies; — the frame 
 Exhilarates ; — and welcomely we find 
 
 The latent spark enkindling to a ilame 
 Of mental light, and reason*> self her throne reclaim ! 
 
 X L. 
 
 Yes ! well that scene may close the task cssay'd ; — 
 
 For here the muse hath run her circuit round 
 Of lawn, of woods, of water and of glade ; 
 
 Her descant song hath strung o'er furthest bound 
 Qf ])########' s charms, and where melodious sound 
 
 Of warbling choristers at earliest morn 
 Sk al on the Listening ear — ah ! there he found 
 
 Deep in the grove's recess, on tree or thorn, 
 A chorus of delight to gladness only born.
 
 53 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 PART II. 
 I. 
 
 Another task succeeds. In simplest guise 
 
 Sketch forth that favour'd spot — a mansion fair, 
 Whence once thou fled, but speedily grown wise, 
 
 Thy truant step retraced. For where, ah, where 
 This bosom couldst thou calm, or from it tear 
 
 Association's darts — (all pangs above ! — ) 
 If not in this blest scene of peaceful prayer ? 
 
 For here the grace of patience, and Christ's love 
 Hath taught thy long- tried soul from out poor self 5 " to move. 
 
 ii. 
 And now, as thro' the portal we advance 
 
 Our right-hand step brings entrance to a room 
 Would grace more lordly house ; — and mazy dance 
 
 Of revelry hath oft dispers'd the gloom 
 That clouds drear winter's eve, and from night's womb 
 
 Full many a thought of fortune richly dight — 
 Of future jo} r and merriment have come, 
 
 And with the morn's returning orient light, 
 Brought to each youthful breast gayfancy's dreaming sprite.
 
 IfADNJ lHTO III. 
 
 Ml. 
 
 Bul deem not, G*****, that in thoughts like these 
 We judge thy ways, — since such the world, and more, 
 
 Sicks for its votaries and slaves to please. 
 
 Fesl balls, and routs, and pleasure's glittering store 
 ( )f soul-empoisoning idols they adore. 
 
 The Christian muse, though judging not the deeds, 
 Must with a righteous anger sternly pour 
 
 Her vial'd vengeance o'er the embryo seeds 
 Of dissipation's curse ; since here no Christ she reads. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Say thou, whom nobler task and scenes allure, — 
 
 Whose vig'rous pen Port Royal's Saints hath traced, 
 Would they their home exchange for folly's lure, 
 
 And, mid the crowd of worldlings, seek that rest, 
 Which solitude imparts? — Ah ! sore distrest 
 
 At scenes like these, each vestal sister's soul 
 Would bleed in anguish, and be ill supprcss'd 
 
 Her sorrowing tears at fashion's sad controul 
 O'er earth, and time's neglected waves e'er ceaseless roll ! 
 
 v. 
 
 But say not all is sin ; 5 " — nay, grant, my muse, 
 
 That 'mid this spacious room full many a heart 
 Hath beat responsive to those nobler views 
 
 Of life and time which wisdom's laws impart; 
 That converse rich of learning and of art 
 
 In copious stream hath flow'd in by-gone hours, 
 And chasten'd wit perform'd bis jocund part 
 
 \N ith mirth-inspiring mem'ry's vivid powers, 
 And chased each cloud that care o'er festive pleasure lowers.
 
 Canto III.] MADNESS. 55 
 
 VI. 
 
 Yes ! much the bard in vent'rous flight could sing- 
 
 Of youth's past hours and transitory love ; — 
 But other themes recall the vagrant wing, 
 
 And, far all feast or fashion's joys above, 
 He hails the change by time's unceasing move 
 
 Forc'd on these lordly rooms : — for happier far 
 One rayless soul in reason's light to prove, 
 
 Than gaze on myriads chain'd to fashion's car, 
 And slaves to idols, as all fashion's children are ! 
 
 VIL 
 
 Here then the muse her wish'd-for refuge finds ; — 
 
 And here when winter's storms forbid the air, 
 Our maniacs seek to lull their restless minds 
 
 With pastimes light ; nor idly vacant stare 
 At nothingness ; nor chaunt th' imperfect prayer, 
 
 But to the table draw, and briskly force 
 The light-ball'd cue, — for bagatelle-board there 
 
 May give oblivious pleasure's gentle course 
 To convalescent ones, and lead to reason's source. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Yes ! various are the means to which resort 
 
 The captive sons of reason's hapless fall : — 
 To reading some, and some to rhymester's sport 
 
 Address the careless mind : — or 'gainst the wall 
 Impel the hand-struck, soft, elastic ball; 
 
 While others round the spacious margin tread, 
 And w t oo blythe exercise within ; — or call 
 
 The draft or chess board, and abstract the head 
 In silent conflict. Harmless thus the hours arc sped.
 
 m a ] . n i Cam to III. 
 
 That creed we spurn, which, changing night to day, 
 
 Keeps sinners Bleeping ; * — ( would that Satan slept!) 
 For heav'nward minds have mure ethereal way 
 
 To happiness ; — and ere yon sun hath swept 
 The misty sea, broad o'er the earth that wept — 
 
 Ere duty calls in life's so varied forms, 
 These gather manna, which, by wisdom kept, 
 
 Sustains the soul mid fortune's hourly storms: — 
 Brings peaceful days; and darkening sin to light transforms. 
 
 x. 
 Here all is peace! and silence whilom steals 
 
 Our group among: — and then, to him who knows 
 The mercy of a silent hour, time seals, 
 
 With convalescent strength and sweet repose, 
 The maniac's tortur'd view ; Co and frequent shews, 
 
 In moments of reflection there is found 
 The countenance serene, which mildly throws 
 
 The quiet glance of love on all around, 
 And marks the hope of cure, by dawning reason crown'd. 
 
 XI. 
 
 At early hour, we hail the social board : 
 
 Assembled there, anon the brief response 
 Of thanks is past; and, appetite well stored 
 
 With what it needs, recurs the latent sense 
 To intellectual joys, whose rays dispense 
 
 Theircheering light, and from some feme-wrought tome 
 We draw a mental pleasure oft intense : 
 Or mid Parnassian heights delighted roam, 
 And gather flowers to deck some listless hour to come. 
 
 o
 
 Cantq III.] MADNESS. 57 
 
 XII. 
 
 But soon the scene is chang'd, and forth we walk 
 
 To where, in sweet seclusion's peaceful rest, 
 The sheltered garden lists our vagrant talk, 
 
 As round and round its ample margin, drest 
 With boxwood's nicest care, we tread, thus blest, 
 
 Its gravell'd pathways : — there, with slated score, 
 Amid that group, some eager one impress'd 
 
 By sense of discipline's corrective power, 
 May count, perchance, his walks and thus deceive an hour. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 So glides the time, till telegraphic bell 
 
 Sounds clear the summons to the mid-day meal ; 
 And sated exercise can wisely tell 
 
 What hungry walkers eagerly reveal, 
 When thus again, as to the board they steal, 
 
 In silent waiting for th' accustomed food, 
 And, with a zest the hungry only feel, 
 
 Pronounce each dish in God's own language " good," 
 And own delights of sense to all not understood. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 To idling now — or for amusement some 
 
 Will seek the bagatelle's green-sm-faced board ; 
 And as the ivory globes to socket come, 
 
 With laughing glee the winner's voice is heard 
 In triumph joyous : — while the mind is stirr'd 
 
 To gentle use ; till to the ambient air 
 Again our group is hail'd, and aye preferr'd, 
 
 Whether or mead or garden, for 'tis there 
 We love to change the scene, and exercise to share.
 
 MADNESS. [Canto III. 
 
 A \ . 
 
 The lair one.-, to.,, as morn or later hour 
 
 Steals round, betake themselves in gentle guise, 
 From needle or from musie's soothing power, 
 
 T" indulge a quiet stroll ; and doubtless prize 
 The privilege that gives their tearful eyes 
 
 Some brightening change to gild time's sorrowing ills ; 
 Of flowers and trees, and the cerulean skies 
 
 Displays the varying charms, and oft refills 
 The wasted memory with hope's refreshing rills. 
 
 xvi. 
 Hut evening comes; and back to D***** ### 's hall, 
 
 Their silent way the several groups now take; 
 In winter's twilight, or in summer's fall 
 
 Of early dew, and for health's golden sake, 
 
 cape the wat'rv air, and hie to slake 
 
 Their gentle thirst with China's beverage mild : — 
 Harmless infusion, without sin or ache, 
 
 But simple as the nourishment a child 
 Sufficeth, e'er this fragrant herb our tastes beguiled. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Nor long to some the vagrant moments seem, 
 
 Which onward bring them to that welcome hour, 
 When soothing slumbers and the wild-thought dream 
 
 Await the limb-' repose. Mysterious pow'r ! 
 Thy latent secrets, sleep, 61 nor prince's dow'r, 
 
 Nor philo ophic eye of lore can scan : 
 Whether to loft . or lady's bow'r, 
 
 Or mid Arcadian scenes of pastoral Pan, 
 Bljthc fancy wing the dreaming soul of sleeping man.
 
 Canto III.] MADNESS. 59 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Thus night steals on ; and one by one now cease 
 
 The passage footfalls' tread, till last is stirr'd 
 The wonted watch-step of the chief, and peace 
 
 And silence reign; save when some loud-shrick'd word 
 Of watchful maniac's voice 62 at distance heard, 
 
 Rings thro' the hall, and wakes some mournful lay 
 Of memory's plainings ; till the deep-strung chord 
 
 Has rous'd, perchance, to him whose fitful day 
 Was rife with war, of pregnant thoughts a sad array. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 The morn returns, and punctual as the sun, 
 
 The signal bell, at six, proclaims the hour 
 Of sleep's decline ; the race again begun, 
 
 All now, as duty or as mind hath pow'r, 
 Begin the day ; and tho' dark clouds may low'r 
 
 O'er sorrowing lost ones, yet some breathing hope 
 Still lives, that reason's health-inspiring dow'r 
 
 Of sanity shall yet again give scope 
 For their accustomed joys, and gladden life's last slope. 
 
 xx. 
 
 Th' attendants now their welcome tasks pursue ; 
 
 Unlock each door, — the prisoned ones release : 
 And to the favour'd convalescent few 
 
 Give earlier liberty, and thus decrease 
 Woe's daily ills. If spring's drear tempests cease, 
 
 And summer's dawning sun hath cheered the sight, 
 Some eager swimmer sallies forth in peace, 
 
 To lave his limbs, and 'neath the waters bright, 
 With plunge luxurious, hail ablution's healthful rite.
 
 i Hi HADNES Carto III. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 All ! little ken ye, whom the busy world, 
 
 In Mammon's chace or pleasure's devious maze 
 (lives not to feel restraint; 63 who, onward whirl'd, 
 
 Fain seek in changeful time's ten thousand ways, 
 Whate'er of business, or of idler's gaze, 
 
 May give the hours release, and from you steal 
 All sense of weary nights or mournful days: — 
 
 Ah ! little reck ye of poor maniacs' weal, 
 As, close immured, in vain they raise th' unheard appeal ! 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Again the day begins: again the race 
 
 Of wonted duty, or of suffering speeds 
 The coining hours ; — again the week's full chace 
 
 Of moments run ; the blessed Sabbath's deeds 
 Of worship and of prayer approach ; no w T eeds 
 
 Of idleness nor vice grow in that ground, 
 By Grace thus hallow'd ; all that mercy reads 
 
 Of good in man aneath the gospel's sound 
 Is sweetly heard, and here love's swelling anthem found. 
 
 win. 
 To those, whom still the fever'd brain denies 
 
 To join the assemblies of this holy day, 
 The garden's healthful range not less supplies 
 
 Th' accustomed walk ; and though no idle play 
 Hath place, yit books and exercise allay 
 
 Th' impatient spirit of those restless ones, 
 Whom nought can tame, save in that righteous way, — 
 By actions kind and prayerful orisons, 
 Where wisdom mildness seeks, and fitful anger shun-. 
 
 3
 
 Canto III.] MADNESS. 61 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 But now wears gently on the day of rest, 
 
 And with the evening bell, assembled see 
 The chief and family : while there imprest 
 
 By the same feeling of deep sanctity, 
 The several members need none other plea, 
 
 To meet their master at the wonted hour, 
 And with him bend the heart's submissive knee 
 
 To that great Source of love, of truth, and pow'r, 
 Whose smilegives joy e'en when earth's rudest tempests low'r. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 And here too join the chief's domestic fold, 
 
 Those convalescent ones, whose docile minds — 
 To them more dear than India's health-bought gold — 
 
 Ask hence refreshing change ; while mem'ry binds 
 The peaceful scene, and happier future finds 
 
 A blest memorial graven on the heart — 
 A sweet remembrance of whate'er reminds 
 
 The thankful breast of peace, these scenes impart, 
 And which ne'er yield, in life's best hours, to joys of art ! 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 There is indeed a harmony in praise, 
 
 Which the true followers of Christ only know : 
 And well I ween those softly swelling lays, 
 
 That through the mansion's distant chambers flow r ' 4 
 In heav'nly strains, their sacred unction own 
 
 To Jesus' grace within ; nor hath a chord 
 From Handel's lofty spirit gladden'd so, 
 
 When, at command of priest or monarch's word, 
 " Creation's" choir through echoing aisles or halls is heard !
 
 MAD.N I • INTO III. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 He only knoweth, Lord of heaven and earth, 
 
 I low this wrapt soul with Listening love hath wep( 
 In Becrel praise to Him who gave it birth, 
 
 And cYr. amid each threat ning danger, kept 
 The wavering heart! And what, if overslept 
 
 The joys which thee, dear Fox, or noble Pknn, 
 Would cause to start, and from such strains have leapl 
 
 Your prison-bounds! Oh! grant that, yet again, 
 Silence may soothe the spirit, nor ask the songs of men ! 
 
 .VIII. 
 
 And ah ! to you sin brought not wars like these : f)5 
 
 Four course in glory, though in suffering, ran ; 
 No fevered brain, distorting all it sees, 
 
 E'er rous'd your foes, and broke each hcav'n-born plan 
 For Christ's own cause, in saving thankless man; 
 
 But, onward urged by truth's resistless force, 
 Your righteous paths in Jesu's power began, 
 
 (Jndevious held; nor mindful, in that course, 
 ( )f mans weak threats, his prison-bars, or bootless cur 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Oh ! 1 revere the spirits that forbad 
 
 Each Bensual joy's excess of sound or sight; 
 And though soft music's witching strains have had 
 
 A soothing influence o'er this anger'd sprite, 
 And festal board, with sparkling goblets bright, 
 
 I lath held, crcwhile, this sinful form in chains 
 Of fever'd bliss, and dimm'd the moral light; 
 
 Xor less the splendours of the world, — its veins 
 Of gold, and glare, have to the soul brought Satan's gains;
 
 Canto III.] MADNESS. 63 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Yet do I know, that sight, and taste, and sound, 
 
 Are of that " flesh" which Heav'n shall never sec ; 
 That, till our hearts with Christ within are found, 
 
 'Tis not the worldling's, nor the tempter's plea, 
 Can unempoison joys, 66 where jollity 
 
 Attunes the harp, and dance, and idle song, 
 Give to the passing hour its treach'rous glee, 
 
 And drag to future wretchedness along 
 Sin's willing victims — gay, but ah ! a thoughtless throng ! 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Ask ye the course a Christian soul must take, 
 
 If the sweet strains of harmony denied, 
 And, for a latent-fancied danger's sake, 
 
 We give up all that tends to lust or pride ? 
 Say, is it for a mortal to decide 
 
 What others do ? — Enough for him to know, 
 That in a ball-room's glare, the secret chide 
 
 Of conscience would annoy his presence so, 
 That your rare bliss would be a veritable woe ! 67 — 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 If, scatheless by Apollyon's fiery darts, 
 
 Or young or old, the manly or the fair, 
 Can trust, in scenes like these, their joyous hearts, 
 
 And from them speed to orison or prayer, 
 With the same zest that steep'd their feelings there ? — ■ 
 
 By virtue chasten'd, if a concert's lays 
 Attune the heart to peace, and you repair 
 
 To lated couch with undiminished praise 
 Of God — not man — a miracle attends your ways! 6 *
 
 6 I M LDH ESS [Cahto III. 
 
 WXIII. 
 
 But, muse, return; for much remains to tell 
 Of scenes that mark Samaria's house of woe : 
 
 Ami, ah! of ills that Adam's race betel, 
 
 Since sin. that worst of "robbers," caused to flow 
 
 From human hearts the griefs which mourners know, 
 Nought can with mind-destroying lust compare ; 
 
 For Jesu's gifts to other wounds bestow 
 
 A sov'reign halm, imbued witli heartfelt prayer; — 
 But madness shuts the soul, and truth not enters there .'
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 Sketch of various male characters known to the author in different 
 
 Establishments.
 
 67 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 i. 
 
 Experience is the pastor of the wise, 
 
 And yields to man the blessings truth imparts ; — 
 Come, then, fond muse, and in song's magic guise, 
 
 Retrace thy footsteps 'mid grief's sorrowing hearts, 
 To walls unscal'd, and where the timid starts 
 
 In dread of maniac's mystic deeds and name ; 
 In silence there, engage thy gentle arts 
 
 To sketch the features, and prolong the fame 
 Of mimic kings ; since harmless is their pride-fed flame. 69 
 
 ii. 
 
 Yes ! from the list of human ills to cull 
 
 Such evidence of man's poor fall'n estate, 
 That thoughtless ones, or dullest of the dull, 
 
 May know that He, whose powers alone create 
 The lofty forms of reason's proudest state, 
 
 And give to mortals, semblances divine, 
 Can these fair "towers of intellect" prostrate, 
 
 And mar the beauty of wit's noblest line ; — 
 Can raise the weakest up, or spoil pride's bold design. 
 
 f 2
 
 68 M kDNEBS. [Canto I v. 
 
 hi. 
 
 Nor heeds it where the muse's vagrant wing 
 
 W ith retrospective flight the bard conve 
 Enough, if from her stores remembrance bring 
 
 The vivid transcript of those mournful days, 
 When first this form, inur'd to madmen's ways, 
 
 Was plunged within the breathings of despair; 
 Taught, by the aid of sympathy's soft lays, 
 
 The power to read of other hearts the care, 
 And feel, e'en now, the chains which countless sufferers wear. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Yes! earlier day- have given him saddening proof 
 
 Of crowded cells, and intellectual woes; 
 And thrice, alas ! his steed's unconscious hoof 
 
 Hath borne the minstrel, wishful of repose, 
 To scenes of ill which few dare ken, save those, 
 
 Whom love or duty urge to penetrate 
 The sad seclusions, where life's current flows 
 
 In drear monotony's benumbing state — 
 Scenes 70 that the hand of Fuseli might celebrate. 
 
 v. 
 
 Adjacent to proud London's ancient walls, 
 
 These limbs, to fearful custody consign'd, 
 Endur'd a conflict that the soul appals, 
 
 I.i n in the lapse of twenty years; — nor mind 
 Of Herculean strength, could, thus confin'd, 
 
 Re-breathe uninjur'd liberty's sweet air ; 
 The vigorous frame, to ruffian hands assign'd, 
 
 In vain could aid the intellect's right care ; 
 And bad to w r orse he came, while lingering sadly there.
 
 Canto IV.] MADNESS. 69 
 
 VI. 
 
 What else could spring from chains and dungeons dire ? 
 
 (For not alone with crime do these unite,) 
 This anger'd form, in retrospection's ire, 
 
 E'en now recalls the peace destroying sprite 
 Which roved his fancy through, and deadening quite 
 
 All reason's power, — left the demented one 
 In worse than ignorance's Stygian night ; 
 
 Where, nor the light of Jesus' heavenly sun 
 E'er struck the eye, nor on the ear, faith's orison. 
 
 VII. 
 
 All vain the effort, to constrain by force 
 
 The impetuous mind, or stay its fierce career ; 
 And conscious then that 'twere a vain resource, 
 
 'Mid anger's fitful tempests, thus to steer, 
 Some guardian angel, (ah ! to memory dear !) 
 
 In mercy pointed to where Ouse's stream 
 With gentle current winds that terrace near, 
 
 On which Sol's earliest and resplendent beam 
 Shines o'er York's vale with peaceful ray and rest supreme. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Her various aid — the walk, the sight of all 
 
 That city famed for art's refining grace, 
 Can give to him whose vagrant footsteps fall 
 
 Its streets and hills among ; — and friends had place 
 In the attempt to gild the rich fraught face 
 
 Of novelty ; — but, ah ! nor walk, nor sight, — 
 Nor yet a brother's, or a sister's chace 
 
 Of sympathetic thought, and love's soft light 
 To cheer the mental gloom, could lay the saddening sprite !
 
 ;ii MADNESS [Cam.. IV. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Oh ! there are few who ken the pangs of him, 
 
 From the dear scenes of joyous mem'ry torn, 
 To halls, where Satan's fallen angels grim 
 
 Hold o'er the mind the stings of grief and scorn ; — 
 Hence not a thought, from eve to dewy morn, 
 
 Which sin's dire curse and lustful pride of self 
 Assail not; — and woes to maniacs only born, 
 
 Give awful proof — some Luciferian elf 
 Hath sciz'd the soul's lost seat, and there bestow'd his pelf. 
 
 x. 
 
 Come S* #####71 then, since death hath seal'd thy doom — 
 
 Those oft-told tales of battle now arc o'er; 
 And time hath ta'en thee to that peaceful tomb 
 
 Where rest thy fathers. Say, can we deplore 
 Thy fragment mind's associated store 
 
 Of warlike talk ? — 'Tis fled, all silent now ; 
 Nor weep we that thy triumphs now no more 
 
 Can claim the list'ning ear; — but joy that thou 
 To heavenly, and not earthly themes art taught to bow. 
 
 XI. 
 
 What boots it that, the myriad throng above, 
 
 Thou sat at royal tables, and the wine 
 Of monarchs drank — or with that son of Jove, 
 
 Brave Wellington, to dare the bastion's mine, 
 And at the hope forlorn, to make the victory thine. 
 
 True, Colonel, thou wert worthy of the race 
 Of England s warriors; — and with bold design, 
 
 Could, from the plain or rocky mountains, chace 
 The Gallic foe, and give thy comrades fame's proud place.
 
 Canto IV.J MADNESS. 71 
 
 XII. 
 
 Full twenty years of battle and of song, 
 
 Thy heart convivial lived in joyance gay ; 
 Nor less thy dearest relatives among 
 
 Could pass, in peaceful mood, the idle day, 
 And give such hist'ry forth as soldiers may, 
 
 To charm a sister's — glad a mother's prayer : — 
 For in thy soften'd nature, joys could play 
 
 Of mildest aspect, and sweet token bear, 
 That home's blest scenes would find thee raptur'd gladness 
 there. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Ah! much the muse delighted erst to guide 
 
 Thy paralytic form along yon walk, 
 And, in the eagerness of youth's first pride, 
 
 To hear thy broken tales and lisping talk 
 Of Spanish fields and siege, where thou didst balk 
 
 The cunning foe, and turn'd their glittering host 
 With brilliant check ; — and proudly thou wouldst stalk 
 
 To new-made camps, in simple guise to boast, 
 That duty's race was run, and thou hadst lov'd it most. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 But, ah ! too often and too long did he, 
 
 The God of Bacchanals, thy form delay, 
 And at the board of martial revelry 
 
 Thy peaceful bosom wound ; — and rudely pay 
 Thy strength athletic, and that upright play 
 
 Of vigorous muscle, with a sad arrear 
 Of after woe ; — and in thy future day 
 
 Extort, full oft, compunction's burning tear, 
 That thou from palace halls had fall'n to fate so drear.
 
 72 MADNESS. ^Cakto IV. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Oh, sons of joy, beware ! — there is in health 
 
 A snaring luxury of sense, that well 
 May stimulate you to display its wealth 
 
 Of manly powers ; — an eagerness to tell 
 Of thrice-fill'd bottle ; and, alas ! to sell 
 
 Your heav'nborn peace for triumphs at the board ! — 
 Ah, little reck ye what to him befell — 
 
 The theme of this fraternal lay, whose hoard 
 Of manhood's terrene bliss, in banquettings was stor'd. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 But still we ask not of the Christian man, 
 
 To dash the wine cup from his timid hand ; 
 Nor urge that modern " abstinence's" plan 
 
 Is what to all hath Deity's command ; 
 Nor, much as well we love the eager band 
 
 Of those who crowd this hydra-headed fame 
 With China's feasts — and many a visage bland 
 
 Of friendly sister — church or chapel dame 
 Assemble to adorn the scene, and self inflame. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Say not there's sin in all who cannot go 
 
 Your full career, or own the lights that guide — 
 Since Jesus bid the aqueous fountain flow 
 
 In wine's delicious stream, and to the bride 
 Of Cana gave his smile, and bid the tide 
 
 Of Hymen's joy run innocently gay. 
 Nathless, a blessing we can ask to bide 
 
 Upon your labours — fervently can pray 
 That yours and all such toils may haste ImmanueFs day !
 
 Canto IV.] MADNESS. 73 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 But think not ye, the Bacchanalian sons 
 
 Of joys convivial, that we plead for you. 
 Oh, scan not thus, ye sin-encrusted ones, 
 
 That lay of him who, to his Saviour true, 
 Seeks e'er to bring to man's still closer view 
 
 That only cure of every mortal ill ; 
 Which if, through fleeting time, our steps pursue, 
 
 As with a seraph's voice it asks us still, 
 Would bend the pride-full heart, and break the stubborn will! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 And this must be — whether the chalic'd wine 
 
 We drink or dread ; — no half accomplish'd boon 
 Of morals chang'd, or temperance' design 
 
 A blissful peace to give, can e'er attune 
 The sinner's heart; — unless or late or soon, 
 
 Its all to God be given : — and though we grant, 
 That he whose abstinence at virtue's noon, 
 
 Gives pledge at eve of age's healthy plant — 
 Yet stay the motive here — and lures of earth enchant ! 
 
 xx. 
 
 For, if to sensual comforts ye essay 
 
 To lead your flock — your short-sight judgment errs : 
 'Tis only at conversion's heav'n-born day 
 
 That He within — the infant Jesus stirs, 
 And draws by grace from earth's e'er ceaseless whirrs, 
 
 Each better hope, each inward taste of peace, 
 Alike unconscious of the robe or furs 
 
 That deck the outward form ; sad sin's release 
 Comes from a deeper source than morals can give place.
 
 ; I M.\:>\i [Canto IV. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Bui deem doI novice in this field of woe, 
 
 ^ e feast-fraught sons, the minstrel thus who sings; — 
 For late- his hours full many a month did flow 
 
 "Mid scenes of reckless ill — and memory brings 
 Strong tide of facts, and all abhorrent things 
 
 W Inch drunkenness engenders ; but he found 
 'Twas not by force of reason's tongue, or king's, 
 
 To chain th' inebriate soul ; — that Satan's bound 
 Of lawless will, bids scorn the Gospel's heav'nly sound. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 By love and patience — brotherhood of pain, 
 
 He sought these ruffian sons of ill to tame ; 
 Nor was his labour always spent in vain : 
 
 For, by the bed of sickness, love's soft flame 
 Could warm the heart, and patience, milder name 
 
 Each plaint subdue; and though his short career, 
 These scenes among, gave evidence, (the same 
 
 His reason would to all make full as clear,) 
 Too slight of what he loves — yet is his judgment here 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Unchangeably confirm'd. lie asks no voice 
 Of man to tell him what his duty calls 
 is heart to render ; — what the instant choice, 
 "Twixt those whom Temperance's marble halls 
 Can dangerously excite when fame befalls 
 
 Their philanthropic deeds — and him we sec, 
 Who, taking .Jesus for his guide, recalls 
 Full many a scene of hopeless misery, 
 lie enter'd oft to talk of grape's forbidden tree.
 
 Canto IV.] MADNESS. 75 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 But S ### *****, thy impatient ghost will cry : — 
 
 " What means the lay thus tediously outspun ?" 
 Ha ! well I see thy form in memory, 
 
 And would in mercy those e'er bid to shun 
 The cup of woe, whose moral strength undone, 
 
 Like thine, poor Colonel, by the social snares 
 Of wit's loud laughter and convivial fun : — 
 
 And this the minstrel confidently dares 
 In faith to ask, and mingle with his patriot prayers. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 If then thy first death-blow the goblet gave — 
 
 Thou limping friend of many a listless hour — 
 Say what o'erturn'd that noble figure brave, 72 
 
 Whose travell'd days in India's palm-girt bower 
 Have passed a joyous course — and from that hour 
 
 Of Brahmin prayer hath scann'd the scene around — 
 Say what th' exciting cause that bid thus lour 
 
 The murky clouds in madness' bosom found, 
 Brought thee from Scotia's hills to Ebor's ancient ground? 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Cassius ! — thyself alone canst tell ; — for thou 
 
 In pierceless silence, tho' in love, didst dwell ; 
 Yes oft ! in vivid memory, as now, 
 
 The muse recalls how many a tale did tell 
 Thine evening's talk ; — and what o'er field or fell, 
 
 Thy vagrant footsteps tended ; yet e'en then 
 Thou held'st a mute mysteriousness, that well 
 
 Might cherish fancies that thou wert of men 
 Some " great unknown," and doom'd no hall to see again.
 
 76 MADNESS [Canto IV. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Thou kno\\'-t the vision of thy bardic friend, 
 
 That from the index of a rich stored mind, 
 And semblance to a kingly head, did wend 
 
 To this, so fertile brain, a tale cntwin'd 
 With thy lorn presence, and which aye might find 
 
 Fit theme for a romance. Thy prospects fair, 
 From out the halls thy fathers' skill did find, 
 
 Might well, so thinks the bard, thy sufferings spare, 
 From scenes like these, the looks and accents of despair ! 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 But, muse, forbear ! — thou know'st how inly skrinks 
 
 His timid soul from every prurient gaze: 
 And though his manly brow bids gazers think 
 
 That all was courage, and unheeded days, 
 Yet ah ! within our Cassius' breast there lays 
 
 The sleeping nymph — keen Sensibility ! 
 And, reckless all of censure or of praise, 
 
 Thou check'd the strain of converse that, too free, 
 Wound Edwin's heart around thy latent mystery. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Enough to know that, like himself, the pow'rs 
 
 Of fierce excitement did, at times, enrage : 
 That in some sudden and immadden'd hours, 
 
 By erring ones indue'd, the nerves of rage 
 Were strung to fearful conflict; did engage 
 
 Not singly, but full many a sinew there, 
 To curb thy fury and wrath's pride assuage : 
 
 Nor once alone was cast thy lot of care 
 In legal chain, or drunk thy lips of deep despair.
 
 Canto IV.] MADNESS. 77 
 
 XXX. 
 
 For other scenes thy native land among, 
 
 Had known that fearful presence, but in vain : 
 And now to Ebor many a year hast clung, 
 
 Loth to subject thy tortur'd form again 
 To man's inflaming folly — though, ah ! as when 
 
 Thy portly mien in furious guise was brought 
 To Ouse's bourne, and fierce destruction then, 
 
 Of whatsoe'er within thy reach was caught ; 
 So ir'd, alas ! that high ton'd mind with anger fraught ! 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Blest peace be with thee, Cassius, once so mild — 
 
 Thee, whose bland accents and e'er guileless play 
 Affection lov'd, as though 'twere of a child ; — 
 
 And many an evening hour or happier day, 
 Have we to chess, or to the field, our way 
 
 In merriest mood oft tak'n, and with ball 
 And cricket bat, well learnt those cares to stay, 
 
 That in the world our joys had canker'd all, 
 And vainly bid us on or wealth or wit to call 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 For time's oblivious power to soothe each care ! 
 
 Here blythe as boys their school- tide hours between, 
 Our vagrant moments happily did flow, 
 
 And whether at the social board or green 
 Of well-trod field, nought but delight was seen. 
 
 Peace be with thee ! — Though, alas ! I fear 
 That if not wanting faith, as once I ween 
 
 The muse had thought, — yet ever sorrow's tear 
 Will flow till thou hast found a Christian's solace here —
 
 - s \| V|)\ ! CA.HTO IV. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Till every hope and every aet of thine 
 
 Be bas'd in glory to th' Eternal One, 
 Ami Christ's own hand give thee the heav'nly wine 
 
 Of purifying grace ;— and truth's bright sun 
 Aid thee thro' life's bewildering paths to run 
 
 Thy destin'd course :— not that the muse would say, 
 There is no fear of God,— of virtue none ! — 
 
 Ah no ! — for well remembers he the day, 
 When child-like thou, as there the sacred volume lav. 
 
 xxxiv. 
 Didst, at his bidding, mildly take the book, 
 
 And from the Mount's beatic Sermon read 
 That code divine, with solemn voice and look : — 
 
 Yes ! from that hour the minstrel's heart did plead, 
 In many a pray'r for thee, his friend indeed ! 
 
 Would that at D********'s hall thy form were now, 
 Mv lov'd companion; and as heretofore, in need 
 
 Of relaxation or society; — ah! thou 
 Could sweetly give relief, and chase each angry vow ! 
 
 xxxv. 
 Cassius, farewell ! — and yet methinks 'twill be 
 
 The minstrel's portion once again to join 
 His fate to thine; — and thankfully would he, 
 
 This very hour, his lonely lot entwine 
 With thee, the friend of Providence divine. 
 For what but that unerring voice of love, 
 Whose ways mysterious, seeking to combine 
 Our every ill for purposes above, 
 Could so have chain'd this heart, and bid it^ pure thoughts 
 move.
 
 Canto IV.] MADNESS. . 79 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 And who is this — the son of Smeaton's friend, — 
 
 The child of parents, loving as upright — 
 O'er whom the weight of twenty years now bend 
 
 His prison'd form, and almost shut from sight 
 The brother and the son ? — though loves as bright 
 
 As e'er from fire-side circle's hearts did steal, 
 Still flow from all whom kindred ties unite 
 
 To thee, thou suffering one ; — and often seal 
 Assurance of a hope that time may yet reveal. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Yes ! I have hoped that liberty's sweet hour 
 
 Is fast approaching, and with gentle care, 
 A change of scene and med'cine's skilful pow'r 
 
 May haply yet thy long-lost soul prepare 
 For life's full joys — and 'gain permit thy share 
 
 Of social bliss, and intercourse restor'd. 
 God grant it so ! — and if this heart's deep pray'r 
 
 Can aught avail, at exercise or board 
 To lend love's aid — shall D ### * #### peace afford. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 But pass to him, that youthful visage wan, 
 
 Whose active limbs, with tiger-like rebound, 
 Can urge, in practis'd skill, the bold game on ; 
 
 And though not oft of speech the endearing sound 
 Is heard from him, — yet there are sometimes found, 
 
 Looks of serenest calm ; — and sometimes too 
 His sonorous voice, by eloquence oft crown'd, 
 
 Would, to this list'ning ear, the page pursue 
 Of Holy Writ, and brighter hopes inspiring view.
 
 M) U tDNESS [Cam.. IV. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 And, like Cassius, he was once at sea; 
 
 O'er India's ocean swept his early way; 
 And with a parent, whose authority 
 
 Held o'er a rich domain most righteous sway : — 
 TV Indostan cities trod, and in youth's day, 
 
 Mingled those splendid scenes among, which give 
 To eastern climes more than an earthly play, 
 
 And mark full well how few of those that live, 
 Ken others' woes, or pomp's bright dreams of pow'r believe. 
 
 XL. 
 
 But oh ! nor these, nor England's flowery meads 
 
 Could to the witless child mind's light restore ! 
 Back to the shores of Albion's isle he speeds ; 
 
 Nor long at home, as when the voyage before 
 He lingered still around his father's door, 
 
 And ranged the park, or sought the woodland wild : 
 All, all was bootless ! — and alas ! no more 
 
 Could parents, relatives, this guileless child 
 Of idiot darkness, bear ; — 'twas then by love beguil'd, 
 
 XLI. 
 
 They brought him to that blest and favour'd spot, 
 
 W here rich seclusion gave his hours to peace : — 
 And, save when in the cricket's runnings hot, 
 
 His lofty form — as summer's joys encrease, 
 From morn to eve, though rains or fall or cease, 
 
 Would tread yon terrace, and its shrubs among, 
 Wander with vacant look. Nor had decrease 
 
 Of mental dimness, to his soul that clung, 
 Shewn yet one step, when he, the minstrel's louder tongue
 
 Canto IV.] MADNESS. 81 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Had fled those scenes and join'd a world of strife — 
 
 Nathless, no anxious thought thy fate attends, 
 Afflicted brother ; — an angel spirit's life 
 
 Is in that bosom resting ; and though friends 
 Can little do to give thee light, God sends 
 
 His glorious Son, the Saviour of the world, 
 And He thy every step with love defends ; 
 
 Nor, when against thee death's last bolt is hurl'd, 
 Banners more gorgeous than on Indian shores unfurl'd 
 
 xliii. 
 
 Shall tend thine entrance to the realms of bliss, 
 
 And give thee victory's immortal crown ; 
 Then on a world of misery like this, 
 
 Thou'lt look in triumph, not in sorrow, down ! 
 For then nor man's impatient will, nor frown 
 
 Of anger shall e'er cross thee : and the tears 
 That now await thy mourning heart shall own 
 
 That there is alchemy of love in fears 
 Of earthly growth, and bliss in sorrow's wearying years ! 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Another there is seen, with fixed eye, 75 
 
 And oft with tremulous shake of body too — 
 A large and silent Quaker, whom we try 
 
 In vain to lure in speech, or walk, or view ; 
 Fast by one spot, his eyes intent pursue 
 
 Some fancied boon of ever coming good : 
 The cause we know not ; but the mind all through 
 
 Mysterious was, nor yet is understood ; 
 For years had waned, and still the silent Quaker stood 
 
 G
 
 U kDNESS [Cahto l\. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 The selfsame spots among; — one hour 'twas here, 
 
 Another, there ; and vain th' attempt to move, 
 Or from the house, or from th' appointed sphere : 
 
 Eaeli hour seemed destin'd to its separate rove ; 
 And vain was aye each effort to reprove; — 
 
 Peace be with thee ! — but, ah ! with thee we mourn 
 A wife and parents, whose unchanging love 
 
 Still brought them to that melancholy bourne, 
 Where thou wcrt roaming, vainly waiting hope's return ! 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 One other ward and gallery of woe 
 
 Oft tempted this enquiring step; — for there 
 Were rich redue'd ; and learning's classic flow 
 
 Of language, science, and the muses fair. 
 Yes! one aged man, well skill'd in pray'r 
 
 Of France or Spain's mellifluous tongue, 
 Could teach the convalescent mind; and where 
 
 Less gifted souls that mixed group among, 
 Sought knowledge, kindly he their lessons strung. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Another linguist, too, was suffering sore 
 
 The fearful ills of madness and of pain: 
 To language now, or to museum's store 
 
 Of sembled life — in hope there to regain 
 Lost reason's powers and virtue's peaceful reign. 
 
 For, ah ! like thousands on ten thousands told, 
 This youth had wandor'd where sin's follies vain 
 
 Of worldly guise had ta'en a reckless hold 
 Of vice, and plunged his youthful form in Cyprian fold.
 
 Canto IV.] MADNESS. 83 
 
 XL VIII. 
 
 Abhorrent sin ! the lust of sensual love! — 
 
 If in these walls a hundred souls were pent, 
 Whose hidden grief from sins and crimes above, 
 
 Above all number, to the heart had lent 
 A maniac's woe, that from a mind intent 
 
 On fame, or study of that written word 
 Of holy truth, have reason's kingdom bent — 
 
 Full twice a hundred in those halls are heard, 
 Whose spirits passion slew! whose bosoms lust hath stirr'd! 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 f One other yet must claim a transient glance, 
 
 Known years agone to him who strings the lay, 
 And long in destined bonds that much enhance 
 The hope of future peace, that sad one's day 
 Hath pass'd in walled bounds ; — asylum's play 
 
 Of stated hours of walk, of meads, of all 
 That ekes dull time, and bids the lorn one say — 
 " Oh ! when shall I those peaceful hours recall, 
 When will alone shall guide, and fear no maniac's fall ?" 
 
 L. 
 
 A fitful and most wayward life he pass'd; 
 
 And when reverse of fortune bid him seek 
 An humble lot, with reckless, self-wilPd haste, 
 
 The shores of Penn's domains 'neath powers so meek, 
 He wildly sought, and many a tale can speak 
 
 Of what Columbia does and aims to do : 
 But all prov'd only that his mind was weak, 
 
 And from the past, the retrospective view 
 Of stores of wisdom — pride subdued — alas ! but few ! 
 
 g2
 
 »l \I»M 88. [Canto IV. 
 
 LL 
 Another, nearer scene attracts the lay — 
 
 And here the bard his lengthen'd verse pursues, 
 E'en on this spot — and portraits of to-day 
 
 Present their varied features, and to choose 
 Is easy. — First in rank, the Captain, muse, 
 
 Pourtray ; — he who with Lyttleton would draw 
 The vengeful sword ; —and did he dare refuse 
 
 That lordly title, would impugn the law, 
 And muttering all the day, show aye the mind's sad flaw 
 
 LII, 
 
 But who, with placid look and soothing voice, 
 
 Unbending stands so firm and constant there, 
 That naught can move, or give to other choice 
 
 The virtue that the pebbles seem to bear, 
 On which th' accustomed step and wonted prayer 
 
 Arc daily urged ? — But, muse, be not severe, 
 For much thou lov'dst to note his anxious care 
 
 When praying thus, to give love's latent tear 
 Of blessing, to each member of his household dear ! 
 
 LIU. 
 
 Yes, II '*, thou in much rccallest him, 
 
 Who "bove yon Ouse's flood now walks the grounds 
 Of Floor's hall ; — ah ! for no spectres grim, 
 
 In either case, with fancied sights or sounds 
 Your angel spirits Bright; but in the bounds 
 
 Almighty mercy gives your stainless souls, 
 In patience range; — and L** * responds 
 
 To virtues inly felt, and heart where rolls 
 The tide of innocence, though reason ne'er controls.
 
 Canto IV.] MADNESS. 85 
 
 LIV. 
 
 And he, that younger captive here confin'd, 
 
 Whom in the busy world we kenn'd before ; 
 Say by what process of the tortuous mind, 
 
 Hath his sad destiny thus seal'd the door 
 Of present freedom ? — True they said 'twas more 
 
 His eager hopes, built baseless on wild schemes 
 That lured him to gold's false but flattering store, 
 
 And poison'd thus the intellect's pure streams : 
 Yes ! made a wife to mourn the loss of good supreme ! 
 
 LV. 
 
 But whose the form dejected, bending low, 
 
 That erst was cheerful as the bird of morn ? — 
 From whom the full-fraught tongue ne'er ceas'd to flow, 
 
 And many a tale of by -gone days adorn 
 With graphic interest; — but now so lorn 
 
 It almost burdens him, alas ! to speak ; 
 And yield reluctant e'er few words return, 
 
 To tell how fares it : — but his features meek. 
 Still woo the minstrel's love, and milder thoughts bespeak. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 And there is mystery, intensest too, 
 
 In that man's tale ; for many, many years 
 Have pass'd within asylums' bounded view, 
 
 Since to the freedom of life's dawn appears 
 The outward world ; and, ah ! in bitter tears, 
 
 Full many an hour has track'd that time along ; 
 For he, by law, had forfeited — so fears 
 
 The sympathizing bard — that freedom long 
 Exchanged by mercy for a maniac's mates among. •
 
 Mi maun i 36 [Canto iv. 
 
 i.vii. 
 That gallery — sufticcth it? — Or gain 
 
 The muse his pallet take, and bid one rise, 
 Whose portrait 'mid the countless sons of men 
 
 Now sleeps in dim obscurity ; whose eyes 
 Have seen of life no scanty range — the prize 
 
 Of God decreed experience. What ! although 
 Grey locks approach, his health the storm defies, 
 
 With stouter frame, and more exuberant flow 
 Of joyous confidence than youth itself could show. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 But other lays and more extended verse 
 
 May yet, — if Heaven prolong the minstrel's life, — 
 In filter strains those varied scenes rehearse 
 
 With fortune's sad vicissitudes so rife, 
 That without parent, offspring fond, or wife, 
 
 The orphan bard unmov'd, unbid, can sing 
 Much of the world and earth's unceasing strife. 
 
 From memory's stores the deep-fraught lavs can bring- 
 That prove the man, by man esteem'd, a worthless thing! 
 
 I. IX. 
 
 But of these scenes of melancholy fate, 
 
 Where maniac's tear, or maniac's laugh can tell 
 Of sin's untimely loss — of madness' Btate, 
 
 And all the woes that innocence befell, 
 When first by Satan"-- lures, — fresh dipt in hell ! — ■ 
 
 The youthful form to lustful pleasure gave 
 Its temple fair, and virtue sadly fell ; 
 
 Where Jesu's mighty arm alone can save, 
 But only save from death, and self's eternal grave ! 

 
 Canto IV. J MADNESS. 
 
 LX. 
 
 Suffice it that, thus sinning, ill hath tracked 
 
 The fall'n one's path, and thrice in bonds immured 
 This mind and body, with their every act, 
 
 Full many a month of wearying woe endured, 
 Ere yet by doctors and committees cured — 
 
 Or thought so — he his long-lost freedom gain'd. 
 Though walls and bars not always have ensured 
 
 His eager form ; and thrice, though not unpain'd, 
 Hath he — the bard — his wrested liberty regain'd. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Yes ! twice from Ouse's side, through well-girt bars 
 
 Of window small, his tortuous frame he wound, 
 And without noise or laceration's scars, 
 
 From metal or from glass, with one rebound 
 Safe reached the earth, and manumission found. 
 
 But ah ! how brief the space ! — In that same day, 
 At the lodge gates, the rattling echoes sound 
 
 The captive's quick return ! — again to pay 
 The meed of patient watchfulness 'gainst future play. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 And once from D********' s noble hall and woods, 
 
 With easy flight, the truant minstrel strays : — 
 Yes ! on thee, peaceful C ***********, intrudes 
 
 With eager haste and love-releasing lays. 
 But there, too, Providence — (to whom the praise !) — 
 
 Assigned to thee, T********, the duty clear 
 To ask of her, the mistress of past days, 
 
 The power to seek, in time's yet future years, 
 Some other love ; — though A*** still to thee as dear!
 
 s ^ MADNESS 
 
 [i kMTO 1^ 
 
 I. Mil. 
 
 And what th' incipient cause of all this haste — 
 
 This wild impatience of confinement's chains? 
 Reader! some day, in deeper memories traced, 
 
 Will prove, with truth's diviner aid, the pains 
 Inflicted by well-meaning ones; the gains, 
 
 In each so treacherous capture, to their peace 
 Have brought the minstrel sorrows nought restrains! 
 
 xVnd retrospection serves but to increase 
 The full conviction that those errors erst will cease ; 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 That having drunk of woe th' empoisoned cup — 
 
 And having traced the spirit's latent power 
 In each surmounting ill — and lifting up 
 
 The bard's adventurous thoughts to Jesu's hour 
 Of retribution and of gospel dower, — 
 
 Some future day may yet to these declare 
 That, though o'er Edwin's prospects tempests lower, 
 
 And drive the spirit almost to despair, 
 Yet dawns the day of triumph o'er disease and care ! 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Then let us pause, and numbering with the few 
 
 W hose features here the bard hath dared pourtray 
 The joyous and the sad, whose scope of view 
 
 Extends to some less melancholy day, — 
 Mark how th' alchemic graces richly may 
 
 Convert all sorrow into future good : 
 And from a thirty years' < rentful way 
 
 Draw the sweet incense of deep gratitude, 
 I trials sore the sufferer little understood.
 
 Canto IV.] MADNESS. 89 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 So blind are we — are all — who seek not there, 
 
 Where Christ alone gives peace, and love, and joy, 
 The bliss of wisdom's life ! — but with false prayer 
 
 Ask or of wealth or learning to employ 
 Their boasted powers in blessing man : — alloy 
 
 Most earthly, if by grace and Jesus unrefin'd, 
 They bring their cankering dross ; — the veriest toy 
 
 Of childhood were much fitter for the mind, 
 Than these unblest by Heav'n, — for fame alone designed. 
 
 Lxvn. 
 
 And what of rank or pleasure, toil or ease, 
 
 If all but centre in the self of man ? 
 Oh ! where is virtue's sense of truth, if these 
 
 Can so encumber us, so mar the plan 
 Of gospel mercy, that ere yet we've ran 
 
 One-half our mortal course, a load of ill 
 Hath weighted every year ; — nor yet began 
 
 The firm resolve, with prayer our hearts to fill, 
 And seek by Jesu's strength these tempests wild to still ! 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 Not less of thee, Insanity's dread form, 
 
 Its distant birth, to sin and self-love traced, 
 Shall wax in countless woes, than doth the storm 
 
 By clouds electric fed ; and while ungraced 
 By Him, our glory's " Hope," all vain the haste 
 
 To gather gold, or fame, or rest, and there 
 To build our house of bliss ! — by fancy paced 
 
 In durance firm ; but, ah ! say where 
 That terrene house when rains and winds tempestuous tear?
 
 CANTO V. 
 
 Sketch of various female characters known to the author.
 
 93 
 
 CANTO V. 
 
 i. 
 
 Where ? — ah ! where a language shall we find, 
 
 To speak the woes of madness that betide 
 The softer sex, and seize their gentle mind 
 
 With wildest phrenzy and with maniac pride ? 
 Unseated reason, now no longer guide 
 
 Of their endearing love; — alas ! the soul, 
 In guise abhorrent, and in accents wide 
 
 Of purity, stoops to the drear control 
 Of demon thoughts, where sin's deep torrents ceaseless roll ! 
 
 ii. 
 Ye angel powers of truth and love, descend, 
 
 And aid the muse in his unapt essay 
 To show, nor age nor sex one mind can 'fend 
 
 'Gainst madness' sore attacks ! — that fearful day 
 To youth, to beauty, and to fortune may 
 
 In saddest guise still come, and inly shake 
 The mental throne, and bid the lightnings play 
 
 Of wrath divine ; — thy self-wrought blessings shake, 
 And schemes of earthly bliss 'neath maniac horrors quake !
 
 9 1 MADNESS. [Canto V. 
 
 ill. 
 Oli ! lovely partners of our joys and cares, 
 
 The muse can weep, e'en while this lay he sings ! — 
 For 'ncath his window now, the plaintive airs 
 
 Of female song, Ophelia's madness brings 
 To memory's ear, and through the pain'd soul rings 
 
 The knell of reason ! — Oh ! yet pause awhile, 
 Ye who in mansions meet for lords — nay kings, 
 
 Spend aye your hours in learning how to smile 
 "Mid lassitude's disease, and Time's stern hours beguile! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ask ye if highest gifts of intellect, 
 
 Of art, or taste, by every care refin'd, 
 Can your soft bosoms from those woes protect, 
 
 Where madness tortures and where sorrows bind ? 
 Ah no ! — if ye not ken that, as the wind 
 
 Comes whence ye know not — in like manner goes — 
 So the unbidden serpents yet may wind 
 
 Around you soul-destroying chords, and woes 
 Insanity entails ; — yes, bring you life's worst throes ! 
 
 v. 
 Just then as ye, the syren sons of joy, 
 
 Have drunk with heedless, perhaps with sated bliss, 
 And from relentless truth with sin's decoy 
 
 Have sought the glories of a world like this; — 
 So, with a tenfold fear, those serpents' hiss 
 
 Your hearts with terror's visions shall inspire, 
 And 'mid those mansions where no freedom is, 
 
 The senseless mind with restless latent fire, 
 Shall mourn its days away in sobbings and in ire.
 
 Canto V.] MADNESS. 95 
 
 VI. 
 
 Oh ! vainly think not that for you ne'er opes 
 
 Th' asylum's gate ; — that titles or that gold 
 Can save you from some future hour's lost hopes ! 
 
 Of reason scathed, and of madness' hold 
 Upon your writhing form. Nought can enfold 
 
 The mind's accomplishments, nor these avail 
 To stay the dread decree ! — God's wrath hath told 
 
 That some ancestral parent in the vale 
 Of by-gone years hath sinn'd ; and thou, their sins bewail. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Storms, such as sweep all visionary peace 
 
 From thy self-glorying thoughts, oh ! stricken fair ! 
 Bid the relentless gale of woe not cease, 
 
 Till prostrate at the throne of reason there, 
 Thy graceful mind — thy earth illumin'd prayer — 
 
 Alike are cast. — Ah ! seek, then, while ye may, 
 That higher crown — that self-possession rare, 
 
 Which gives to beauty, as to reason's day, 
 The victory Christ bequeath'd, and leads to truth's blest way. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Ah ! who comes thus in laughing mood attired, 
 
 With echoing voice and footsteps bounding on ? 
 As though, by eloquence of feeling fired, 
 
 Her happy sprite had sought some orison, 
 And to the list'ning ear in gladness gone, 
 
 Some blythesome thought or sweetest lay to pour — 
 And radiant with her own delights, the wan 
 
 And wasted sister there to give some store 
 Of joy ; — unclose of reason's self the mental door.
 
 UADN] ■ >" v 
 
 i\. 
 
 Ohl I have often watched thy rapid walk, 
 
 Thou maniac mother of a beauteous throng 
 Of offspring i'air, — and marked the frequent talk 
 
 With other minds; yes, I have heard thy song, 
 In Italy, or Spain, or France's tongue, 
 
 Sweetly commingling with the harp's soft tones ; 
 And oft thy friendly smiles and accents 'mong, 
 
 Have passed a lively hour; but the sad moans 
 Of husband and of child all happiness dethrones. 
 
 x. 
 llow many a time on thy fair front, oh York ! 
 
 Where gravel walk and lawn-like slopes invite, 
 This step hath trod, — and there in busy work 
 
 Of talk with her, whose animated sight 
 And ear could make that lovely scene more bright, 
 
 Have pass'd the hours away. That group among, 
 Who with us paced in gentle footsteps light, 
 
 One form was always found : — but ah! nor tongue 
 Nor smile had she ! — 'twas silence all, and all was wrong. 
 
 \i. 
 But whose that stately mien and antique dress? — 
 
 Some village ^|uircss of the rural scene 
 Perchance glides there, and inly fain would bless 
 
 Th' inferior ones who round her, and between 
 The house and lawn-like walks are constant seen, 
 
 With condescending smiles and love to greet 
 Some favour'd name with call so stern, that e'en 
 
 The bard hath startled much the sound to meet 
 In loudest guise, and language too not always sweet.
 
 Canto V.] MADNESS. 97 
 
 XII. 
 At yonder window, see, a dame presents 
 
 Her portly front j 86 well fitted to ally 
 With learning and scholastic folk ; — no scents 
 
 Or graceful gai'b attend our scrutiny, 
 As, vainly gazing through the panes, we try 
 
 To read her character in outward look. 
 But so, Christ's mercy will not thus pass by 
 
 Her patience and her woes ; — unread her book 
 Of life by man, His love her cause well undertook ! 
 
 xm. 
 Remove the scene, and, D********'s groves among, 
 
 The bard shall find fit portraits for his lay ; 
 And with a Stella's pen give memory tongue — 
 
 Some sad recordings here, with mild display 
 Of truth's fair light, bring to the listening day 
 
 Some mournful sketches of those maniac forms, 
 That hour by hour take melancholy way 
 
 Those groves among ; whose mental storms 
 With sorrow rife, no anxious musing care deforms 
 
 XIV. 
 
 With added fury, or unkinder cheat, — 
 
 For here the mild, the gentle Stella reigns, 
 And in her dominance the graces meet 
 
 Of love, forbearance, and the endearing pains 
 Of soothing sympathy. Her smile regains 
 
 Its cheering look, when through the impatient heart 
 Some yearnings steal, and woman's gentle veins 
 
 Less wildly throb, when by her tones addrest, 
 The convalescent soul finds aye sweet friendship's rest ! 
 
 ii
 
 HADN] [Canto Y. 
 
 \v. 
 
 I lome, then, the minstrel aid, ye muses fair, 
 
 While with love's trembling hand he tones his lyre 
 To Stella".- nolo, so vividly touch'd there, 
 
 Where first her brother bard did pleas'd enquire, 
 If 'mid the souls that here soft care require, 
 
 Truth's portraits of the love-enlightened few, 
 Would not beseem the verse; and yet not tire, 
 
 Nor idly please, on retrospection's view, 
 Those who ma}- deign to scan and read these numbers 
 through. 
 
 xvi. 
 First, then, we sketch, with gentlest hand of love, 
 
 That fated fair," whom twice thine eye hath sought; 
 Whose mental gifts, the myriad crowd above, 
 
 Show well a mind with eloquence of thought, 
 A cultured pen, and hand by practice taught 
 
 To draw sweet sounds from music's heavenly chords, 
 Or teach in strains of unfeign'd love — not bought 
 
 Alone by gold, blvthc France's vivid words 
 To those around ; these tasks her well-fraught mind affords. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 But, ah ! the clouds of madness sometimes lour, 
 
 And dim with error's mist the mental eye ! 
 Sometimes the Bend possessing her hath power 
 
 To give wild thoughts of serpent-form, and try 
 Her gentle spirit with phantasy's dread cry 
 
 Of passion's dominance, and hated fire! 
 Ah ! well, my sister, didst thou say — " How high 
 
 Are judgments of our God ! — his awful ire 
 How past our search I" But let Him still our love inspire !
 
 • 
 
 Canto V.] MADNESS. 99 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Alas ! the ills of poverty attend 
 
 Lorn child of sorrow and of noble mind 1 
 A mother's hand no longer can extend 
 
 The gold of earlier years ; but thou wilt find — 
 Nay, hast found in a L* ## * — generous as kind, 
 
 A father's love, a home for sorrowing woe ; 
 And while his good deeds, thus enduring, bind 
 
 The soul in gratitude and love — let flow 
 The streams of past regret, and Christ will peace bestow. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Next, to the minstrel's tablet now comes forth 
 
 A younger fair ; 88 both elegant in mien, 
 And rich in man's regard, and mental worth ; 
 
 Distinguished then, at least, when reason's queen 
 Holds wise control, and all is smiling seen. 
 
 But when, alas ! the maddening fit comes on, 
 Too fearful were the looks — the words — I ween, 
 
 For Stella's boldest nerve. Hate's myrmidon, 
 Which then hath place, its wild career doth madly run. 
 
 xx. 
 
 But thanks to grace, to Stella, and to love, 
 
 The poor demented one is gone : for cure 
 A second time hath come ; — a new remove 
 
 From D #### * ### to the world, bids hope endure 
 Through other and through worse disease — secure 
 
 In principles of love, that gentle soul, 
 With growing energy and firmness sure, 
 
 Will future lost ones equally control, 
 And bid through grief's torn bosom streams of peace to roll! 
 
 h 2
 
 100 M.\]>\ I -- [('ASM. V. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Hut maidens all were these; — the next, alas! 
 
 To reason lost, the sad repentant wife j" 9 
 For her a husband's name sufficed as pa 
 
 To win her strong and eager love ; but rife 
 With sorrow, and with envy's serpent strife 
 
 Their wedlock days ! For first a father's pain 
 Must prematurely call her home — a life 
 
 Held only for a momentary strain 
 Of vision — soon at rest the body's pulseless vein ! 
 
 XXII. 
 
 But this not all ! — The husband, maniac too, 
 
 Was lingering out, in wretchedness and woe, 
 \t other homes, his life's last trying view 
 
 Of union thus unblest ! Nor long the flow 
 Of sorrow and of time ! — Death came, but oh ! 
 
 Where is the living one ? whose lengthened days 
 In D******** once more pass, but still to know 
 In lucid moments agony's dread gaze 
 On erring love ; and show of Heaven, nor fear, nor praise ! 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Say, what a lesson here is taught to those 
 
 Who thoughtlessly their fates and rites entwine, 
 And idly hope a married life to close 
 
 With golden joys and pleasure's sweetest wine! 
 Who seek in wealth or matron state to shine 
 
 'Mid social crowds, the world's gay scenes among: 
 With mammon's lures religion to combine, 
 
 And give to dissipation virtue's tongue ; 
 Yes! prove how well to earth's low bliss they vainly clung.
 
 Canto V.] MADNESS. 101 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 To thee, dear Stella, she cculd inly mourn 
 
 The errors of her life, and sadly tell 
 How near hypocrisy's so hateful bourn 
 
 Her earliest day was spent ; — how folly's spell 
 Of fashion and of dress her hours befell ; 
 
 And while religion on the lip was heard, 
 No vital change e'er came ; the thoughts rebel 
 
 Against the conscience ; and, by envy stirred, 
 Each vagrant wish its snake-like passions often reared. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Dreams of another world, and impress wild 
 
 Of great ones, and of Christ, steal 'cross her brain ; 
 And now, despair's too melancholy child 
 
 Deems all is lost, — that she can ne'er regain 
 Her forfeit peace, — in misery and pain 
 
 Of anguished memory must linger still, — 
 Thinks those around not mortal, and her vain 
 
 Entreaties for God's mercy only fill 
 Her breast with sobs, her eyes with tears, and heart with ill. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 But whose yon beauteous form, so graced in youth 
 
 With loveliest smiles and looks so passing fair?9° 
 Ah ! she hath been from childhood's earliest truth 
 
 Of thought, in J)********, or in scenes elsewhere, 
 Aye lost to reason ! She with idiot stare 
 
 For hours will sullen sit, or self-willed lie 
 The floor along, and e'en the anxious prayer 
 
 Of mild entreaty will for long defy; — 
 Nor dress, nor walk, save 'neath compulsion's vigil eye.
 
 102 MADNESS [Canto V. 
 
 \x \ II. 
 
 Sometimes, howe'er, her 'gain restored sense 
 
 Slaws evidence of love to those around, 
 Affectionate and gentle, can dispense 
 
 Her sweetest smile on Stella's soothing sound 
 Of bland entreaty, till with labour crowned, 
 
 That Stella's smile reflecting hers, can raise 
 A sympathetic feeling — yea, surround 
 
 The maniac girl with transient joys, and days 
 Of fitful happiness: — but she to God gives praise! 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Another comes 91 — a matron too — but quick 
 
 To search out faults, and criticise aught wrong 
 In dress, or word, or accent, till quite sick 
 
 Of such transcendant gifts of tongue, 
 Our Stella fain would seek less noise among 
 
 Her muter charge, until the fit had pass'd, 
 And then would listen to the fair one's sons:; 
 
 Iler letters scan, and thence would gently cast 
 Some compliment but due to virtue and to taste. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Eliza, fair one! — lovely, but alas ' 
 
 Deep plunged in th' abyss of madness and of woe, 
 Approaches last,''- and well indeed might pass 
 
 For one whose gentle mien and lively flow 
 Of convene would to casual guests bestow 
 
 Full evidence of perfect self-command. 
 But, Stella, thou hast much of cause to know 
 
 The vagrant fancies of her mind — the hand, 
 Quick to possess her notion's rights, forbids the stand
 
 Canto V.] MADNESS. 103 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Of too great forbearance ; and needful 'tis 
 
 To cheek ofttimes these visionary rights ; 
 For she not knows whether or hers or his, 
 
 Some book or article her look invites ; 
 And, whether Stella's or the chief's, she fights 
 
 With tongue full armed for all her fancy sees. 
 But say, when reason, once restored, unites 
 
 To outward grace the thoughts and words that please, 
 We own Eliza one of beauty's prodigies ! 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Then, too, thy bosom, sensitive to all 
 
 A mother's love, a mother's anxious care, 
 Sighs for the home where orphan children call 
 
 Thy wonted presence ; and yet D* ##### ** fair 
 Could well thy form delay, for aye are there 
 
 That loved thee and esteemed thy latent worth. 
 Yes ! e'en the minstrel's self sometimes did share 
 
 Thy animated converse, and woo forth 
 The beaming smile or jest of virtue's harmless mirth. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 And thou art gone — a husband's sacred claims 
 
 Deny thy longer tarriance here ; but say 
 If not too early thus to brave the flames 
 
 Of dangerous excitement, and to play 
 With life's aye tempting bliss, until the day 
 
 Of strength mature arrive, as safely then 
 To duty, children, husbands, thou mayst pay 
 
 All that a mother and a wife again 
 Can render to her home: — but such the ways of men !
 
 1<>1 MADK B88. [Canto v. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 And though 'tis hard to judge a husband's love, 
 
 And plain that naught but true affection craves; 
 Yet is, alas ! this dreadful ill above 
 
 All common woe ; — and he that heedless braves 
 The risk of a relapse, and maddening waves 
 
 Of sudden wrath or undistinguish'd hate, 
 Takes e'er a burden, that no wisdom saves 
 
 From pressing sorely on his peace, nor waits 
 Disease a moment ; — swiftly borne to thy drear gates ! 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Still would we pray for thee, oh, beauteous fair ! 
 
 And hope, (though faint indeed the hope,) — that thou 
 Mayst never know relapse; but round thy chair 
 
 Yon lovely group, as oft in prayer they bow, 
 May ask a blessing on their mother's vow, 
 
 To love and care for all that gives them peace. 
 Ah, yes ! the minstrel could with joy e'en now 
 
 Receive the assurance that thy wish'd release 
 Ilntli brought thee stable bliss that knows not of decrease! 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 The gallery's closed ! the poet's palette art 
 
 Hath finished what in venturous guise he sought 
 Of individual sufferings to impart; 
 
 And of the temper and the wayward thought 
 That tends the Borrowing mind by madness caught; 
 
 Of truth some fearful tokens to convey, 
 And show, that when afflictions press — nor aught 
 
 That med'eine seeks, or soothing love can say, 
 One wave of maniac woe ran man- weak wisdom stay !
 
 Canto V.] MADNESS. 105 
 
 xxxvr. 
 
 Ah, well with thee, lov'd Stella, may the bard 
 
 Sigh o'er these ornaments of social life ; 
 And, meditating on a fate so hard, 
 
 Grieve inly that thus paralyzed a wife, 
 Or husband, brother, sister, friend, — so rife, 
 
 With mental pangs, or worse, with senseless ill, 
 Should spend their days and years in fearful strife 
 
 With demon powers, that ever working, still 
 Possess the soul ! defying man's most practised skill. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 But thou hast said — and, Stella, we are one 
 
 In all that marks thy judgment's heaven-taught mind — 
 That when arraigning thus what sin hath done, 
 
 Or God permitted to assail or bind 
 In chamber'd darkness man or woman kind, 
 
 Full well our chasten'd hearts should ever feel, 
 That 'mid life's deepest woe can Jesus find 
 
 The spirit out, and, in the future's weal 
 That truth — "the Judge of all doth right" — shall erst 
 reveal. 93 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 The task is well nigh done, of ills to paint 
 
 What many a year of truthful sight hath given 
 The minstrel's memory ; and though not faint 
 
 Or weary with the task, some higher leaven 
 Must now attend his strain ; and grant, oh Heaven ! 
 
 That they thus far who travel on, may still 
 Attend the verse, and, as the bard hath striven 
 
 With conflicts past, and sin's unchanging ill, 
 May list the muse when future joys his heart shall fill.
 
 106 MADNESS [Canto \ 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 One parting lay, howc'cr, fond love demands 
 
 To bid the manlier sex hold pause, ere they 
 In reckless passion's haste, lay lustful hands 
 
 On those, the angel ministers of day! 
 Whose smiles, whose powers, whose very loves convey 
 
 Truth's evidence, that nature has decreed, 
 That we our kindest, gentlest homage pay 
 
 To woman's form ! and in the blissful deed 
 Of marriage — helpmeets find in every hour of need. 
 
 XL. 
 
 But say, ye cells and walls of mansions drear, 
 
 If much of sorrow ye could not unfold, 
 Your captives fair among, and many a tear 
 
 In secret shed, o'er wrongs our crimes have told 
 To listening time — as when, with passion bold, 
 
 We sought and woo'd, and won some graceful form, 
 And with the breathings of soft words have roll'd 
 
 The virgin's innate fear away ; "mid storm 
 Of fluttering sighs and thoughts have brought the serpent 
 worm ! 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Ah, yes! too well the victim fair could paint 
 
 Fierce passion's love, from truth and virtue loose, — 
 Could mark the sinner"* who, with voice of saint, 
 
 Soft stealing o'er her virgin soul with noose 
 Of lust-encircling thoughts, by demon's use 
 
 1 )(■(■( i\i a her gentle bosom to believe 
 I lis protestations true, nor yet refuse 
 
 To infamy's vile wish each charm ; — nor grieve 
 That to his base designs she'd dared her all to leave.
 
 Canto V.] MADNESS. 107 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Oh ! wretch detested ! — in whatever shape 
 
 Thy outward guise, — or noble, rich, or mean, — 
 Thou, who a Christian's sacred voice couldst ape, 
 
 And give to virtue conduct only seen 
 When she is there ; the vicious hours between 
 
 Assigned to every luxury of life, 
 Where earth-born glories madly intervene 
 
 With church devotion, and with duties rife ; 
 Perchance, too, outward decency with lust at strife ! 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Oh ! if on earth there dwells a fiend sincere, 
 
 (Sincerity of devils' love of sin !) 
 Seek not elsewhere ; the demon form is here ; 
 
 Nor needs an angel's eye to look within, 
 And tell what base-born projects now begin 
 
 To work his heart depraved and head accursed, 
 As when, by gentle confidence let in, 
 
 A father's or an uncle's door he burst 
 With infamous design, though smiling still as erst ! 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Yes, Stella ! — we in verity could speak 
 
 Of desolated hearts, — of love's sweet gift 
 To worthless souls, — and innocence so meek, 
 
 Surrend'ring freely thoughts that aye would lift 
 Her being up to bliss ! — her world's full drift 
 
 Of happiness — or such as seems to man — 
 Might bear the hand of truth itself to sift 
 
 Her motives and affections in the plan 
 Which beaming fancy builds for self and love to scan.
 
 ins MADNE8E [Canto V. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 And arc there those who glory in the wreck 
 
 Of purity* and ardent flame like this? 
 ( )h ! that some scorpion his heart might check, 
 
 Ere yet the fated child — (destroyer's bliss !) 
 Hath steeped her innocence in sin like his ! 
 
 Where are the laws for wretches such as these ? 
 Whether a title shield the name, or 'tis 
 
 That gold defends their wickedness — why tease 
 The want-urged, famish'd thief with law's fierce penalties, 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 And suffer to escape the heavier guilt, — 
 
 Seduction's hell-born crime,^ 5 and misery 
 Of her, the hapless victim ? To the hilt 
 
 Of legal sword, I'd plunge in breast of thee, 
 Minion of lust ! — base myrmidon of glee ! 
 
 Such as alone in Satan's dark domain 
 Sounds forth its chaunts of horrid revelry, 
 
 And triumphs in some youthful virgin's pain 
 Of agonis'd remorse, when he his purpose gain. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 But, muse, forbear ! — and may thy God protect 
 
 The hand that thus in virtue's fearless song 
 Dares to assail the joys that they expect, 
 
 Who seek for bliss this world's bright stream along 
 And slighting conscience — slighting Jcsu's tongue, 
 
 Reckless of all but their own selfish will — 
 Whether the pure or sensual fair among — 
 
 Set virtue at defiance ; — bid sorrow fill 
 A woman's future cup, and yet live sinning still.
 
 Canto V.] MADNESS. 109 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Say not the theme is alien to the lay 
 
 The Bard has chosen ; — for full many a tale 
 These woe-girt walls in secret could display, 
 
 Of man's abhorrent lust — of sinner's veil 
 Of outward decency, and words that hail 
 
 From unsuspecting ones a false esteem 
 For man's applauded favourite. But the gale 
 
 Of righteous wrath, when He, our King Supreme, 
 With powers divine shall come, will rend the viper's seam !
 
 CANTO VI. 
 
 General exemplifications of aberrating minds — And the singular and often 
 sublime conceptions which attend the ravings of maniacs.
 
 113 
 
 CANTO VI. 
 
 i. 
 Thus far the bard hath travelled on his way, 
 
 With descant song upon woe's wearying scenes ; 
 Yet still remaineth it in verse t' essay 
 
 Some earnest search for cause that supervenes, 
 To mar fair reason's structure ; — and since means 
 
 Of cure have tended his past lay, let now 
 The freer thought run forth, that intervenes 
 
 When meditative minds for truth avow 
 Their prayer to justify God's ways and bid man bow ! 
 
 ii. 
 
 But, this side Jordan, little shall we find 
 
 To gratify or stay the doubting soul : — 
 From what we see of matter or of mind, 
 
 Must man aye draw his pictures of the whole, 
 And with faith's giant strength, from reason roll, 
 
 Much of poor self s fond judgments ; — else, ah ! we 
 But idly blunder without truth's control* 
 
 And from the regions of mind's mystery 
 Bring naught but mist and infidel disquietrv, 
 
 i
 
 114 MADNESS [Cant.. VI 
 
 in. 
 But who the mystic union shall declare, 
 
 Of soul with body 96 — mind with matter sown ; 
 And from the intellectual powers so fair, 
 
 Announce the seat of reason's fleshly throne ? 
 Whether the brain, the blood, or nerves do own 
 
 Th' ethereal tenant as their special life ; 
 Or immaterial and immortal known 
 
 By scripture, and by spirit's inward strife, 
 As but the occupant of forms with sorrows rife. 
 
 IV. 
 
 What minstrel's pipe is to the air it breathes, 
 
 And music of its tones to skill of man, 
 So are the poet's gay or mourning wreaths 
 
 But instruments by which his fellows scan 
 The fertile thought, and hail the latent plan, 
 
 Which from the heart or head doth flow ; 
 But dream not that the bard's rich number can, 
 
 To bones or muscles, blood or veins, e'er owe 
 That life divine, which thought and reason only know. 
 
 v. 
 
 Both are distinct, spite of the logic frail, 
 
 Of man's anatomising brain, and all 
 That we can ken, through being's mystic veil 
 
 Is that, alike to poor and rich befall 
 The self-same woes, — alike the great and small, 
 
 To dread disease of body, and of mind, 
 Are subject ever; — and since Adam's fall 
 
 Nor earthly son nor daughter shall we find, 
 Exempt from ills of sense, and woes of every kind.
 
 Canto VI.] MADNESS. 115 
 
 VI. 
 
 Yes ! He alone — the sinless Jesus ! knew 
 
 Exemption from the curse : none other — none 
 Have sin eschew'd : 97 and here the cause we view, 
 
 Of all the pangs that round man's life have grown. 
 The anguish'd body — mind's unseated throne, 
 
 And perpetuity of pain to those, — 
 Our future race, — whose deep and thrilling groan, 
 
 For ills inherited, might well disclose 
 To minds observant, hated sin's inherent woes. 
 
 VII, 
 
 Yes ! 'tis to sin alone, in every form, 
 
 The bard with dauntless song, dares then proclain 
 That madness and disease, and passion's storm, 
 
 Owe their descent ; aye, and while this enflames 
 The body and disturbs the soul, nor names, 
 
 Nor prurient logic's vain attempt to peer 
 Within the mysteries of God, — nor claims 
 
 Of learning to a patent entrance here, 
 Can other source invent, — can other cause make clear. 
 
 11 
 
 VIII. 
 
 This truth to demonstrate the bard yet hopes, 
 
 Some future hour, and in his later verse 
 To shew that, without mysteries or tropes, 
 
 The coming ages shall of Christ rehearse 
 The glorious triumph o'er that awful curse ; 
 
 And in that proof the truth itself appears 
 Too obvious for a doubt ; nor language terse 
 
 Of poet, orator, or doctor, clears 
 Our subject, — still is sin the parent of our tears. 
 
 i 2
 
 I lii \i \!>\ ESS [Cakto vi. 
 
 i\. 
 Yes! from thai Bacred book the muse shall take 
 
 Such evidence of future peace and joy, 
 A- proves that when Christ's glorious rayfl shall break 
 
 Upon the dawn of after-time, alloy 
 Of sorrow shall no longer man employ, 
 
 To search the body through, or mental frame, 
 For cause of ills whose agonies destroy 
 
 Our souls' terrestrial peace, and reason's flame 
 Convert to maniac griefs, and sin's last woe proclaim ! 
 
 x. 
 For, ah! say what the curse exceeding this — 
 
 When from alike the Bible, or the creed 
 Of Mahomet, with paradise's bliss 
 
 Of sense and sensual joys — these lost ones read 
 No solace to themselves, but thoughts that breed 
 
 New phantasies, and deepen the disease. 
 Oh ! at this moment would mine heart could bleed, 
 
 A cure to spirits twain, now in the lees 
 Of maniac's dreaded woe, that know nor rest nor ease ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Would that this moment some seducer's ear 
 
 Could listen to the cries that rend my heart 
 Beneath the poet's cell — could but they hear 
 
 Ophelia's witless tongue anon impart 
 The ravings of demented sin, which art 
 
 In vain may soothe — for time and truth alone 
 The oil of comfort there can pour; — man's part 
 
 To watch the dawn of reason, and repentant grown, 
 Of conscience-stricken souls ere truth regains her throne.
 
 Canto VI.] MADNESS. 117 
 
 XII. 
 Think not the muse with speculative brain 
 
 Is dreaming o'er the woes which maniacs know ; 
 In his own form the madman's latent train 
 
 Hath throbbed too oft, nor yet too long ago, 
 For time to test the miseries that flow 
 
 From inborn sin and passion's reckless sway. 
 Ah ! gentle reader ! — mournfully not so 
 
 The minstrel sings ; his bygone years display 
 A full fraught meed of mental woe's sad sorrowing day ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 And much of marvellous fact could he declare, 
 
 Of mind's elastic force and memory's power — 
 Aye, to himself a miracle ! since there 
 
 Arose so suddenly — as 'twere an hour — 
 The tongue of France, 98 and from that lofty tower 
 
 Full many a lay of Gallic song or verse 
 His teeming thoughts did skill-less lips empower 
 
 With untaught melody to sing ; — rehearse 
 Blythe scenes of other lands, and tell of praise or curse. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Whence came these magic powers ? — by what arm 
 
 Unseen, upheld, and tuned to unknown song 
 The mental apparatus ? Whence the charm 
 
 That in the very depths of woe, along 
 The joyous day, and others' griefs among, 
 
 Could elevate to fancied scenes of bliss, 
 And from the height of his sonorous tongue 
 
 Proclaim, as oracle, a world like this, 
 Beneath the phantom realm of joys he claims as his ?
 
 lis MADNESS [CAKTO \ I 
 
 XV. 
 
 Who can the anguish of that heart foretell, 
 
 When from the heights of mundane glory's power 
 ( nine depths of misery — depression's hell! — 
 
 Such as alone the maniac's woe-fraught hour 
 Could realize. This, too, is sin's sad dower ! 
 
 Thrice, — yes, thrice, this mourning spirit proved 
 That when the clouds of melancholy lour 
 
 O'er minds once happy in the scenes they loved, 
 The later woe is worse than all their passions moved ! 
 
 xvr. 
 And why these clouds? — To some 'twere joy to think 
 
 The mental reign approaclvd and peace restored : 
 But little reck ye that on reason's brink 
 
 Are awful depths, by many a heart explored ; — 
 And that same spirit which erst God adored, 
 
 And with its fellows, worshipp'd Heaven's designs, 
 Now lost to faith — on selPs poor floating board 
 
 At sea in all its thoughts ! — thus inly pines, 
 And 'whelm'd in agony, with Satan's snares combines. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Some sage inventor of a cause for all 
 
 The dealings of Creative Love with man, 
 May, from these facts bewild'ring, boldly call 
 
 Their judgments evidence that God's own plan 
 Could mended he ! — with philosophic scan 
 
 At hourly miracles, fearlessly declare 
 There's nought mvstcrious since the world began. 
 
 To those, the learned, taught to dive with care 
 Nature's decrees! — see second causes every where.
 
 Canto VI.] MADNESS. 119 
 
 XVIII. 
 Say, then, thou Solon of this boasting age, 
 
 Whether thy name, like B*** ### *'s 100 loudly sung 
 In modern themes, and intellect's fair page — 
 
 Or more obscure, thy destiny among 
 The marching myriads with fame's brazen tongue, 
 
 Pouring their deist anthems on the world, — 
 Say, if thou canst, how he whose bold hand flung 
 
 Denouncing verses, and in numbers hurl'd 
 Rhyme's lightning-bolt, and truth's bright flag unfurl'd. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Say is it that with inspiration new, 
 
 Creative Pow'r has deign'd t' expand the soul, 
 And sudden brought to faith's prospective view, 
 
 The boundless powers of thought, the deep'ning roll 
 Of meditation's feelings? — Given control — 
 
 Unfelt before — o'er memory's wide spread page, 
 And from earth's little part, display'd the whole 
 
 Of God's unchanging love through every age, 
 From Adam's adult youth, to days of sophists' rage. 
 
 xx. 
 
 All, all in vain, thy idle wish to trace 
 
 What Heav'n alone can know, or truth's not here, — 
 And boldly justifies the bard, that grace 
 
 By Jesus meted out, — the tongue, the ear, 
 As open at that Pentecost appear 
 
 The miracles bestow'd ; — or heav'n-born love, 
 Which soothes, and dries the wounded spirit's tear, — 
 
 These are the gifts, thy prurient powers above ; 
 And blindly thou wilt walk till faith thy pride remove.
 
 1 20 .MAUN i [Canto VI. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Yes ! little ken ye, sages of the soul ! — 
 
 Ye men of intellect 'neath banners high, 
 Where ceases man's, and where 'gins Heaven's controul 
 
 Of mental powers. — Metaphysics' eye 
 Hath not yet pierced the awful mystery 
 
 Of life, nor intellect's proud part therein. 
 We grant that will through all can boldly vie 
 
 With grace ; — but ah ! unless the whole within 
 Christ's arms enfolded are, all, all is yet but sin. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 The muse hath dared, and now repeats the strain, 
 
 That madness' self and all its sorrows dire, 
 Is from the poison'd blood, — the sin-dyed vein ! 
 
 And idly we philosophy require, 
 To show the truths of God's avenging ire 
 
 On sinful Adam and his self-will'd race. 
 In babe-like humbleness thy task inspire, 
 
 And all things then — in nature, Bible, grace — 
 Shall to the eye of faith shew righteousness and peace. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Great are the mysteries that mock our gaze, — 
 
 Of all, as that which Paul" hath erst declared, 
 But body, soul, and intellect's fair maze, 
 
 To man's weak sight hath never yet been bared : — 
 And vainly then six thousand years hath stared, 
 
 With self-presuming eye Heaven's work among, 
 To search in second causes how lie cared 
 
 For his stupendous gifts of sense, of tongue, 
 Of nature's boundless stores, and Jcsu's heavenly song.
 
 Canto VI.] MADNESS. 121 
 
 XXIV. 
 This very spirit loathes thy self-born pride, 
 
 Thou child of genius, or of meaner art, — 
 Whom self-conceit, and confidence can guide 
 
 Through time's still onward and diviner part 
 In the great scheme of raising man's dead heart ! 
 
 Say, whence thy gifts, so eloquent and rare ? 
 Didst thou create the talents to impart 
 
 With pencil, pen, or voice, those gifts which bear 
 The impress of God's love — but still enhanced by prayer ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Thy creed ! — 'tis study all — and patience gains 
 
 Those terrene glories that on fame await : 
 And he who strives, though godless be his pains, 
 
 Shall surely reach the high — the envied state 
 Of those whom love can win, and flatteries wait, 
 
 To crown with shouts of human praise their deeds 
 Of mathematic skill, — with force narrate 
 
 Each war-sped scene ; to him who only reads 
 Of human causes-— lo ! the fruit — 'tis only weeds ! 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Yes ! fruits of pride and weeds of self-conceit ! 
 
 Such as a Newton grew not, but as meek 
 In fame's supernal courts, where only meet 
 
 Th' illustrious sons of highest gifts, who speak 
 As from the thrones of ages past — doth seek 
 
 To scatter gracious truths o'er later days ; 
 And this above aught else — that man is weak, 
 
 And of his proudest intellect, the rays 
 Of genius are but Heav'n's own gifts — and God's the praise!
 
 122 MALM.--. unto VI. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 If of himself the minstrel may set forth 
 
 Th" experience of vicissitude and time, 
 He could, indeed, display the latent worth 
 
 Of chastened minds, — where truths the most sublime 
 Expand their amplest verge, and swiftly climb 
 
 His loftiest thoughts among; yes, inly give 
 A rapture, which nor eloquence of rhyme, 
 
 Nor rhetorician's art could bid to live 
 In accents worthy of the theme— then cease to strive. 
 
 xxvm. 
 Bow then, my soul, in adoration deep, 
 
 And of thy God's benignant love display 
 Those gifts o'er which no angel's tear need weep ; 
 
 And gladdened by the light of truth's bright day, 
 Shine only with Christ's sanctifying ray, 
 
 And hymn to God the glory ! Thus be mine 
 Led on to fame, or to more silent way 
 
 Of those, the blessed ones. Be, Jesus, thine 
 That I with them in love my blissful hours may twine. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 The highest glory of the noblest parts 
 
 Is aye the same ; though stronger in retreat, 
 More splendent where the Christian's soul imparts 
 
 Each influence pure, and perfume's latent sweet! 
 Nor needs, for love of Him, that sorrows meet 
 
 On sinner, or in learning's field. Ah, no! 
 Full well the minstrel can with gladness greet 
 
 A brother bard, or bid the bosom glow 
 Towards science 1 son- in lonely guise, as where throngs go
 
 Canto Vl.J MADNESS. 123 
 
 XXX. 
 
 And yet not always thus ; for he hath strayed 
 
 Through many a path of life's so various field, — 
 Hath seen in cities proud the good displayed 
 
 By patriot souls, and all that grace can yield 
 T' improve our race, and man from sorrow shield ; 
 
 And panting with a sympathetic love, 
 Would fain essay the mind's blest powers to wield, 
 
 And soaring far the crowd's low thoughts above, 
 Thus urge his fellow-men these sacred truths to prove. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 But deep, I ween, have been the plungings o'er 
 
 Which in the stream of life have whelmed him oft 
 And prayerfully he seeks to ope the store 
 
 Of memory, and with her breathings soft 
 Attune this minstrel harp to themes aloft ; 
 
 And of God's goodness to display the height ; 
 Reach depths too where more heartfelt sorrows waft 
 
 Grief's latent sighs ; but in more cheering light 
 Of future years to prove that all of God is right I 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 And next to powers of grace — of Jesu's love — 
 
 Comes discipline, — child of a hardy race ! 
 Yes ! far all other human gifts above, 
 
 This is the attribute whose steady pace 
 Of thought — of habit — gives to virtue place ; — 
 
 That aids truth's efforts, nor destroys the nerve 
 Of body, nor of mind the gifts ; then trace 
 
 Through all the hours our purposes that serve, 
 And say if recklessness or discipline most swerve.
 
 124 IfADNl 38 [Canto VI. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 ( )h ! madness drear ! — sad offspring of disease ! 
 
 Much of thy woe the bard, with fearless lay, 
 
 W ould boldly trace to things that idly please — 
 
 The habit unsubdued — the unfraught day — 
 Or vicious walk where worldling souls display 
 
 Their hell-born triumphs — or intemperance, thou 
 That peace hast slain, and given to maniacs' way 
 
 The shattered mind ! — as, S********, swiftly now 
 Attc nds thy ghost to shew how wine the mind can bow. 
 
 xxxiv. 
 Then in thy prayers ask for a chastened mind, 
 
 That yields to duty's present call each hour, 
 And with subjecting force can inly bind 
 
 The vagrant thought ; the spirit's wayward power 
 Can to the past add peace's blissful dower 
 
 For future days, and open deep'ning streams 
 Of ever-flowing love — yes ! on thee shower 
 
 Heaven's purest joys; not baseless, as in dreams, 
 But stable as that sun whence Jesu's glory gleams ! 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 If to an earthly form the minstrel bowed 
 
 In adoration of its power divine, 
 Full sure, oh discipline! with thee this proud 
 
 Rebellious heart would seek to intertwine 
 Its purest thoughts ; for buoyant health is thine 
 
 Of spirit as of body, lie could sing 
 A devious lay of hours and days that shine 
 
 His life's path 'mong, and to fond memory bring 
 Traits of his character first formed by labour's king.
 
 Canto VI.] MADNESS. 125 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 For labour without discipline is nought, 
 
 And much of time and energy we lose 
 In anxious care and fear's e'er-restless thought, 
 
 Unknowing which of labour's means to choose ; 
 Whether the instant moment, or refuse ; 
 
 And thus oft miss the hour by grace designed 
 For every act of industry, or views 
 
 More purely abstract, such as Milton's mind 
 In labours deep and prayerful hope alone could find, 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 To thee, fair D** ##### * ! much these verses owe 
 
 For hours of seeming agony, when time 
 Sped heavily, and the captive's tears would flow 
 
 Fast o'er his ruminating thoughts, and crime 
 Of murmuring against decree, the prime 
 
 Of his mind's power thus shut him from the world ; 
 And while the throes of energy sublime 
 
 Wrapt e'er his soul, to maniac's prison hurled 
 His cherished hopes, and bid truth's banner then be furled. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Nathless by alchemy of Christ's eternal love, 
 
 The rainbow-tints of heav'n-born hope still shine ; 
 And, raised the earth and man's weak will above, 
 
 This heart still throbs with extacy divine, 
 Nor mourns the change from yonder railway mine 
 
 To chambered cell, or brick-bound vault like this ; 
 For solitude and peace here can combine 
 
 The luxury of thought's untrammelled bliss, 
 Safe from th' obtrusive step, or gossip scandal's hiss.
 
 MADNJ [Canto VI. 
 
 xxxix. 
 Yes ! well of thee, repose's ivied ecll ! 
 
 May he, the bard, in fluent numbers tune 
 His grateful lay. If Penn or Tasso tell 
 
 How much the discipline of heart full soon 
 Can elevate, e'en when yon silver moon 
 
 Casts aye its lambent rays on prison liars — 
 Or thee, Kirke White — no idle thoughtless loon — 
 
 Could sing that " dungeon walls," nor tyrants' cars, 
 "The energies of mind can cramp," nor where those wars 
 
 XL. 
 
 To darkness dragged the Christian captive bound, 
 
 Could man's dread arm more than the body chain ? 
 Th' aspiring soul still spurned th' accursed ground 
 
 On which thy cruel tyranny in vain 
 Essayed to 'strict its flight ; its heav'nward strain 
 
 Still soared in dauntless song or talc divine ; 
 And when, Cervantes, thee, mid want and pain, 
 
 To cruel hands thy bending form consign 
 To prison doom, thy " Don" immortal still could shine. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Ye martyrs, too, for Christ who wept and bled, 
 
 Firmly had ye His crucifying power 
 Sustained, and 'mid the dungeon's precincts read 
 
 The glorious truth ! — Then comes th' avenging hour, 
 When man's intolerant laws no more shall lour 
 
 O'er Christian lands; be yours the glory then 
 To seal with martyrdom our blissful dower 
 
 Of liberty, and nobly thus again 
 Restore a conscience free, and Heaven's good will to men!
 
 Canto VI.] MADNESS. 127 
 
 XLll. 
 If other bards and other pens have sung 
 
 Th' alchemic good which 'tends thy misery, 
 Confinement hard, — well may this grateful tongue, 
 
 Blest D ## ******'s ivied cell ! proclaim from thee 
 The blessings in disguise which nurtured me 
 
 Through many a bitter — many a weary day ! 
 And now, with grace's chastened minstrelsy, 
 
 That boon, with fluent verse, would he repay, 
 And to the world resound his loved and early lay. 101 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Deem'st thou the scene deserving a record, 
 
 And of its space and objects, though not new, 
 Yet joying ever the hour when prayers accord 
 
 His nightly entrance, and shut out from view 
 All, save what, to peace and virtue true, 
 
 Brought e'er association's blissful train, 
 And, with morn's clarion bird, bid me not rue 
 
 A Saviour left, and peace once madly slain 
 By thee, false Peter ! — though by love restored again. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Scarce three steps long, or two in breadth, is here, 
 
 A brick-roofed cell, with walls and floor the same ; 
 No window — but through metal bars the clear 
 
 And bracing air doth come, and tame 
 The anger'd spirit ; but, alas ! t' inflame 
 
 With after-thoughts too oft the vexed soul ; 
 Not seeing then that in our haste to blame 
 
 Weak man's decrees — 'tis God's divine control 
 That bids time's sorrows flow, — its myriad stars to roll !
 
 [28 BADNESS. [Canto VI. 
 
 M.V. 
 
 For plate'.-, recess 'twas used in earlier days, 
 
 But now ;i nobler purpose 'gins to break 
 Upon its cell-like walls; — and Heaven's the praise! 
 
 That to this heart, albeit unused to quake, 
 Its prisoned Bpace hath brought a peace that spake 
 
 Of blessings as of griefs. At evening hour 
 Shut in, — with sound e'en Morpheus' self might wake 
 
 The door swings to, and with no feeble power 
 The maniac bolts turned safe, brought evening's peaceful 
 dower. 
 
 Xl.VI. 
 
 Ah \es! full many an hour of angers strife 
 
 This bleeding soul in sorrow pined away, 
 And to this prison cell, with blessings rife, 
 
 Returned secure, delighted to survey 
 Its unapproachable recess, and pray 
 
 That none might suffer agonies like those 
 Which pierced his heart, and marred life's passing day, 
 
 For happiness or usefulness; his woes 
 Still deep'ning with the dawn, as golden Phoebus rose. 
 
 \M II. 
 
 But, thanks to time, to patience, and to prayer, 
 
 The scene is changing ; and thus taught to wait 
 The hour decreed for liberty's sweet air, 
 
 Ami unrestrained by bonds 'neath madness' gate, 
 Once more to ilee the captive's mourning state, 
 
 And prove — if verse of mine Borne day may prove — 
 Whate'er the cause which timid friends await, — 
 
 Excitement— joys unnatural — and remove 
 From life's so common tract— all, all is of Christ's love!
 
 Canto VI.] MADNESS. 129 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Insanity, in vulgar sense, my spirit spurns, 
 
 And with defying accent bids declare, 
 Or friend, or foe, or relative that yearns 
 
 O'er Edwin's sufferings ; — or even where 
 Imprisoned thus unrighteously, the stare 
 
 Of keeper or of surgeon fixed could see 
 More closely his defects and pangs — yes ! there 
 
 He would defy all evidence that he 
 Was to the world insane ; nathless 'twas God's decree ! 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 And, grateful for the love that since hath grown 
 
 Within thy walls, dear D ## ** #### , seeks not now 
 To ponder o'er the past, or idly moan 
 
 O'er scenes beyond recall. — Then, Father, thou 
 Who keep'st my soul, teach me in love to bow 
 
 At thine Almighty voice ! — and thus the ill 
 That man hath 'gendered shall in truth avow 
 
 That sufferings, by grace divine, can still 
 Mind's angriest storm — yes! grief with peace the bosom fill! 
 
 L. 
 
 But bid the smile return, oh muse ! and sing 
 
 Of evening's chambered walk, and morning's lay. 
 Will patriot throats to patriot dinners bring 
 
 A joyous crowd, and bid their loud tongues play 
 The thrice huzza ! — and vainly thus display 
 
 Or loyalty, or revolution's aim ? — 
 Be thine the task, oh Christian harp! away 
 
 From revel's dangerous scenes to win a name 
 For unseen deeds of labour — not unworthy fame ! 
 
 K
 
 130 Nl U ' N ; t CA - N "' V1 - 
 
 i.i. 
 ( rOj doctor ! — surgeon, go! — and 'mid that crowd, 
 
 Watch the infuriate eye — the language cursed 
 Bj utterance profane — of talents, proud, — 
 
 ( onvince thyself — from horror's cries that burs! 
 Upon thine car — if there excitement first 
 
 In the array of passions, doth not goad 
 The reckless maniacs in their deeds accursed, 
 
 And yet these 'scape; though ye by smiles have woo'd 
 The bard to D******** and to Y***'s unblest abode. 
 
 LII. 
 
 Yesl he'fl away :— or A******, S**********, 1 * 2 — yc 
 
 Who, heedless of all consequence, thus join 
 These maddning crowds, are wrong; and yet shall see 
 
 That vain your boasted efforts to refine 
 On I leaven's own law; or check that force divine, 
 
 Which onward rolls to those prophetic days, 
 When mobs and mobbing patriots' boasted line 
 
 Shall be extinct, — and dead the ficndlikc praise 
 Of Chartist throngs; yes! sleep their last, their loudest lays. 
 
 Liir. 
 Back to thy peaceful cell, oh muse, return, 
 
 Nor wound thine anxious breast with themes like these. 
 1 )i scribe anon, the Bard whose thoughts thus burn, 
 
 As silent now, the foot-fall ceas'd, and ease, 
 Woo'd by his pillow, bids the minstrel please 
 
 lli> wakeful mind, by sleep or thought's deep thrill; 
 For here nought but the distant murmurs tease 
 
 His irritable sprite, — with grieving fill 
 His British heart for England's democratic ill.
 
 Canto VI.] MADNESS. 131 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Lo ! there he rests, sweet sleep his eye hath seaPd, 
 
 And scarce a dream o'er this so healthy frame 
 Steals with some fancied scene from memory's field, 
 
 Ere yet again the memory's orient flame 
 Invites the vigorous mind to verses' fame ; 
 
 And on that nameless stand by window bars 
 Behold his form. — He asks not man's acclaim 
 
 Upon this favour'd spot, where conflict jars, 
 Q r g#########' s i ow h um his peace no longer mars. 
 
 LV. 
 
 Farewell to thee ! blest refuge of my soul, 
 
 Thou ivied cell ! — where thus in anger's hour 
 My Saviour did, in many a rapturous roll 
 
 Of memory's wave — unfold example's pow'r ; 
 Or flow of soothing time, when erst did lour 
 
 In deepest anguish, sorrow's clouds of woe, 
 And thus thy minstrel energies empower 
 
 To bid the lay in cadence rude to flow, 
 And from his lonely harp a heavenly influence go. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Example did I say !— Ah yes ! not blood 
 
 Of faith-taught martyrs, but the tortur'd frames 
 Of later days, when Cromwell's self withstood 
 
 The hate of kings, and patriot zeal inflames ! 
 Or England's sons not his and Milton's names 
 
 Alone with hopes transcendant, — but alas ! 
 As now, a reckless mob its law proclaims, 
 
 And nought its scrutinizing eye can pass 
 Which stems its pow'r — free thoughts of every class. 
 
 k 2
 
 132 maiin: lhto VI 
 
 lvii. 
 
 Y. 3, ooble Fox ! ' thou who, with Paul's high zeal, 
 
 Did to the listening throngs throughout the land, 
 Sound forth a gospel strange, that with truth's seal, 
 
 Soon mark'd of Christian souls a growing band, — 
 Who could the laws and will of kings withstand, 
 
 If in that will, or in those human laws, 
 They saw not Christ's unansw'rablc command: 
 
 Yt > ! dauntless Fox ! for righteousness' cause, 
 Thou didst endure in dungeon's gloom man's tyrant claws. 
 
 I. VIII. 
 
 And thousands more in patience' guise have borne, 
 
 Of Royal or Protector's pow'r the chains; 
 And some 'mid sufferings too severe and slow 
 
 Have seal'd in death their faithfulness and pain : 
 Shall he then — prisoner of to-day, — whose gains 
 
 Within these walls are countless, thus bewail 
 A cross probationary; or mourn the stains 
 
 E'en anger makes ; for he that book can hail, 
 Which saith, "Be angry and sin not;" — in silence veil 
 
 LIX. 
 
 The mournful past, and ere the muse her wing 
 
 Plume for a far more heav'nly flight, display 
 In accents of profoundest joy, the Bpring 
 
 Of thine own peace ; — and to the wide world's day 
 Declare thy faith unchanged, that they who pray 
 
 Without all doubt, shall of their God receive 
 A double portion of His gracious stay, 
 
 To nourish hope, and bid them e'er believe 
 The hour yet comes when virtue's sons shall cease to grieve.
 
 Canto VI.] MADNESP. 133 
 
 LX. 
 
 Yes ! Father of supernal bliss, to thee 
 
 The minstrel here a tribute fain would raise, 
 To tell of godliness the mystery ; 
 
 And with the anthem of resounding praise, 
 Fill to life's brink his heart's so grateful lays, 
 
 That thus to man, and man's unseen descent, 
 The coming offspring of time's purer days, 
 
 This verse may show of Christian truth the bent, 
 And build for Christ the minstrel's spotless monument. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 And ye, the lorn ones of this mansion's halls, 
 
 Or elsewhere breathing, 'mid asylum's gloom 
 The atmosphere of woe, — to you he calls, 
 
 As with a voice from resurrection's tomb, 
 Proclaiming such to be your ceaseless doom, — 
 
 If Christ ye ask not — as the mental light 
 Pours on your souls — for grace from sin to come, 
 
 And re-invest your spirits in those white 
 And radiant robes of righteousness with glory bright. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 In vain ye seek of med'cine or of man, 
 
 That cure which from your Saviour only flows ; 
 In vain ye strive 'gainst Heaven's eternal plan 
 
 To cure the leprous soul. 'Tis he who goes 
 Child-like to Jesu's throne, that only knows 
 
 The past redeem'd ; and sees the future's joy 
 With more than renovated hope, — and sows 
 
 The heart with goodly seeds 'tis Christ's employ 
 To tend through life, and hail its fruit without alloy.
 
 134 MADNESS [Canto VI. 
 
 I. Mil. 
 
 f or me, — when I forget the glorious sound, 
 
 That to this soul, in many an hour of grief 
 Mid these lone walls, where echoes loud resound 
 
 The captive's anger'd voice, and blest relief 
 found in those songs, did bring in whispers brief 
 
 The strain, " Be still and know that I am God !" — 
 Oh, may that Power, in wrath on me, the chief 
 Of thankless sinners, lift his chastening rod, 
 And doubly sow with thorns the path which erst I've trod — 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 A path with sorrow and with change so rife, 
 
 That if vicissitude be earthly bliss, 
 Nor parent, brother, nor e'en meekest wife, 
 
 Curs'd with a faithless husband whose false kiss 
 1 let rays th' adult'rous crime — a life like this 
 
 ('an shew more fitted for experienced good 
 Of woes to joy transmitted, than could his 
 
 Whose devious lays are these, for he hath stood 
 lull fitly summers on the earth ; and thrice his blood 
 
 LXV 
 
 Swelling with strong excitement, man's weak fears 
 
 Have prisoned him; disarming all his rights, 
 And pouring o'er his joys the bitter tears 
 
 Of undeserved tyranny ; with blights 
 Of temporal prospects. But ah! Heav'n requites 
 
 Man's timid soul with powers restored to those 
 Whom he hath deign'd to love ; and leads to fights 
 
 And Christ's sure victory o'er all his foes; 
 And oh ! that they are such tli<- future shall disclose!
 
 Canto VI.] MADNESS. 135 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 Then let the past suffice, and now essay, 
 
 Proud harp of mine, the loftier strain that waits 
 Thy future theme, and to that coming day, 
 
 Lead on the audience of thy song, to gates 
 Of Zion's city, where our Christ translates 
 
 Each child-like spirit to eternal joys : — 
 With Gabriel's flight approach, and happier states 
 
 For unimperious man describe — alloys 
 Of sin or sorrow come not there ; — nought that destroys. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Scenes that man fondly hopes — but prophet's lyre 
 
 Hath sung ; and safely may the muse take flight 
 To realms of peace, where Christ's millennial fire 
 
 Burns e'er his altars on ; and Heaven's own light 
 Illumes each new born soul, — and mantles white 
 
 Of Eden innocence, again array 
 The dwellers of the earth ; — extinguished quite 
 
 Each spark of hate ; — and envy's gangrened day 
 Gives place to Gospel love, and Jesu's milder sway.
 
 CANTO VII. 
 
 General reflections; — conclusions referring to the fulfilment of prophecy, 
 and to those future and glorious days, when such possessions and im- 
 becilities of mind shall cease, and cloudless truth and unsullied purity 
 reign over all.
 
 139 
 
 CANTO VII. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 I. 
 
 Jesus ! who didst all prophecy inspire ! 104 — 
 
 " Ere Abraham was, I am," — could Godlike say : — 
 Descend, and fill with Heaven's immortal fire 
 
 The bard's yet latent hope's seraphic lay ! 
 Teach him of time's remote but onward way, 
 
 In descant deep to sing ! — and mortal men 
 To wake from hateful sin's destructive sway ; 
 
 Returning to fair Eden's groves again ; 
 Thou, Jesus, hast the minstrel loved, aid yet his pen ! 
 
 ii. 
 
 Redeeming Lord ! — This bardic hand to thee 
 
 Owes all its strength — its energy divine ; 
 And if in past or present's minstrelsy 
 
 Was sought in fervent prayer the grace-built line, 
 How much, alas! of weakness must combine, 
 
 If in the future disregarded thou ! 
 Come, then, Immanuel ! Heaven's own graces twine 
 
 Around this harp ; and while we inly bow 
 To thine eternal power, oh ! give each lay as now !
 
 [40 M \I»M>- [CA.NTO VII. 
 
 III. 
 
 But firs! essay o'er present scenes to scan, 
 
 And mark the progress God thus far decrees, 
 'Mid man's advancing and stupendous plan : 
 
 Survey the works which, with consummate ease, 
 Science can scheme, and labour, as it please, 
 
 Accomplish. For of learning or of art, 
 None other days can shew such fruits as these ; 
 
 Or to the wondering student's mind impart 
 More rapturous hope than now arc seen in London's mart ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Nathlcss of all the arts of later days, 
 
 None can e'er rival thee — creative press ! 105 
 For thine, like Aaron's rod, absorbs all praise, 
 
 And of all deeds — the greater or the less — • 
 Nought should we know, or vainly, idly guess, 
 
 Save that thy leaden tongue, with magic voice, 
 Sends e'er intelligence ; and happiness 
 
 Derives from thee its extacies most choice, 
 For thy minutest type can bid the soul rejoice. 
 
 v. 
 Fain would the bard a votive anthem bring, 
 
 And sound with minstrelsy the blest acclaim 
 Of that " Society" 106 whose head, nor king 
 
 Nor queen of earth commands ; but Jesu's name 
 And Jesu's power its heav'nly deeds proclaim ! 
 
 Alike on alien lands, as here, bestow 
 Of gospel love the breathings and the flame ; 
 
 Bid mercy in ten thousand streamlets flow, 
 That erst the doubting sons of sin disdained to know!
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 141 
 
 VI. 
 
 Heav'n prosper thee, as heretofore, till when 
 
 Around the globe no sterile spot remains, 
 But where of Him — our Christ with mortal men 
 
 Instructed— all shall read truth's holy strain, 
 And realize the day when sin and pain 
 
 No longer vex the saints on earth ; but joy, 
 And peace, and love, and everlasting gain, 
 
 In Paradise's realm, without alloy, 
 Shall hail the ransomed, and their bliss-fed tongues employ. 
 
 VII. 
 
 England ! 107 — if nations may of glory boast, — 
 
 If of ages, yet in embryo womb, 
 The Bible err not — from thy blessed court 
 
 There go, and still shall go, till time's last tomb 
 Engulph the latest sinner that may come, — 
 
 Strains such as, since this nether world began, 
 None other nation can in truth take home, 
 
 Save thou alone ; for thine the glorious plan 
 To search the earth, and Bibles give to heathen man ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But ah ! how much of God-defying sin 
 
 Still flows thy streets, thy busy marts among ! 
 Is't not, alas ! full time that thou begin 
 
 In earnest zeal, with missionary tongue, 
 To sound that gospel here, which long hath hung 
 
 Neglected in our Britain's isles ; — to preach 
 Of truth's first principles, — of love that clung 
 
 While yet unmindful of the words that teach 
 Return of love, and Christ despied as out of reach !
 
 142 M.w>\ i vn. 
 
 i.\. 
 \\ hat would avail thine energies to thee, 
 
 Proud nation of the world! — if lleav'n sliould send 
 Some fearful .scourge, and hid thy circling sea 
 
 Bear on it> breast a hostile fleet; or lend 
 Some other plague, to make thy greatness bend ? 
 
 Another Nelson may not be, nor gale 
 Of cholera, as erst its way did wend, 
 
 So lightly leave its deadly breath, or hail 
 So few to death's dark bourne, and bid thy proud heart 
 quail. 
 
 x. 
 Dcem'st thou the muse morosely bent on gloom, 
 
 To sadden aye a future of delight — 
 That thus, while all is smiling round, thy doom 
 
 He dares surmise? Go, worldling's angry sprite, 
 And read thy Bible! — it will shew the right: 
 
 Whether the bard, who, with grief's trembling hand 
 Sounds forth the strains of sorrow's dark'ning ni^ht, — 
 Or thou, with type and railway at command, 
 And pride elate, proclaiming blessings to the land? 
 
 XI. 
 
 Yes ! next the press, we grant those powers twain, 
 
 Expansive steam, and metal-covered way, 108 
 Of modern days the marvel; — and the main 
 
 And Bafe dependence of the throngs who say 
 That "knowledge gained is power 1" — But the day 
 
 Will surely come when, till these gifts divine 
 Be sanctified by grace, man vainly may 
 
 Of type, or press, or railway boast, till line 
 ( M Adam's sons be changed, and Christ our hearts refine.
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 143 
 
 XII. 
 
 Oh ! I abhor — yes, in my soul abhor 
 
 The maxims of this heav'n-forgetting age ; 
 Who, with the elements of grace at war, 
 
 Claim for their intellects' rebellious page 
 The power, Almighty's energies to guage, 
 
 And think that science or that art can give 
 Those inborn virtues 10 ^ — foes to pride's deep rage — 
 
 Which bring a peaceful bosom here, and live 
 Through endless life with those, who, child-like, can be- 
 lieve. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Knowledge is good — yes, heavenly and divine, 
 
 While kept subordinate to God's decree: — 
 That they, who of th' eternal kingdom's wine 
 
 Shall drink hereafter, must in feelings be 
 Changed from the pride — the weak conceit of thee, 
 
 Minion of the world's dread smile and gaze ! 
 And come to Christ, with child's simplicity, 
 
 Such as, Sir Isaac — 'mid thy glorious days, 
 Thou cherished, and of Heav'n heard more than mortal 
 praise. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 I loathe thy vaunted honours, learned one ! 
 
 Who givest not creative power the due 
 Which, while on earth, — nor less when bliss is won, — 
 
 All must surrender, who would right pursue 
 The path that leads to joy's immortal view, 
 
 Nor linger 'mid earth's gold with pride-fed eye ! 
 For aye this difference time's last ages through, 
 
 That Newton breathed in bliss, because on high 
 His grace— and thou all other strength than self deny !
 
 [44 M UDK1 '8 [Cahto vii. 
 
 xv. 
 W.iiii we aught other evidence of ill 
 
 Than what, from Bight, these angered spirits feel 
 Each Sabbath that to all returning still, 
 
 ".Mill davs of Bible-press, and missionary zeal, 
 Revolving come, and on each spot reveal 
 
 The countless sins of those whose terrene rule 
 Marks them, alas! what idly we conceal, 
 
 The " march"-led sons of intellect's last school, 
 And hastening, as we fear, to future wrath's sad goal ? 
 
 x VI. 
 
 Yes ! mourning, 'tis our lot, each Sabbath day, 
 
 Near D*** ****'s woods a busy throng to see; 
 And Satan's self, converting Heaven's blest way 
 
 To deeds of wickedness and jollity ! 
 Sav'st thou no good from evil can be free, 
 
 And that, or railways cease, or Sabbath days 
 Must needs be broken thus, and this to thee 
 
 No violation ! u " Mend thy godless ways, 
 And humbly seek in prayer thy truthless heart to raise ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Nor here, alas ! proud Britain, is the stand 
 
 Of temples scoffed, and aye to pleasure given 
 The Sabbath's rest! The rich, the great, profane 
 
 And give to roads, to Bong, to wine, what Heaven 
 From Adam's boon of time hath wisely riven; — 
 
 On labour six bestowed, and one on prayer ; 
 Nor thus with man alone bath kindly striven, 
 
 But rest commands for beings every where — 
 The stranger in thy gates, or cattle in the lair. 
 
 2
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 145 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Alas ! for those whom fortune's glittering wealth 
 
 Hath yielded power to sin without control ; 
 Who heed nor peace of mind, nor body's health, 
 
 So they through Sabbath hours may proudly roll 
 Their chariot wheels ; or bid the wine-filled bowl 
 
 Its dire libations pour ! Yes ! thrice accursed 
 Ye sinners rich of England's pride-fed soul ; 
 
 For well have prophets told — aye from the first 
 That Sabbaths broken cause impending storms to burst : 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Ye live 'neath Christian laws, and Christian queen ; — 
 
 Go to your Bibles then, and learn that He 
 Who bid that volume speak, can swift, I ween, 
 
 Pour down His wrath; — and plainly ye may see 
 By Jeremiah's strain, what fate shall be 
 
 The lot of those who hearken not to laws 
 Sent forth for all of men — for thee, for me : — 
 
 " Then will I kindle fire," saith God, " because 
 Thy gates are entered, and thy beast its burthen draws. 
 
 xx. 
 
 " That unextinguished fire shall erst devour 
 
 Thy palaces, Jerusalem ! — and in woe 
 Thou ceaselessly bewail th' avenging power 
 
 Of Him from whom thy countless mercies flow !" 
 The curse, though not the words, is even so, 
 
 As he who looks may see, — 'who runs may read:' 
 Then wise ones cease not ; 'mid yon sinners go, 
 
 With voice of thunder, fitting those who heed 
 Jehovah's word, and for His holy Sabbaths plead. 
 
 L
 
 146 N1 U>N1 B& [Canto VII. 
 
 XX I. 
 
 ¥es, England ! well the muse may deeply mourn 
 
 This proud defiance of thy righteous Lord; — 
 As vainly now thy nobles madly spurn 
 
 The word of prophecy; — but He whose word 
 Declares that nations are but dust, shall hoard 
 
 Against the day of judgment every thought 
 Rebellious; each defiling act record ; 
 
 And when at last with Dives sad ye 're brought 
 To the award eternal, rank avails you nought. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Say, then, what hope remains our Isle to bless, 
 
 Since they who guide the vessel of the state, — 
 Prime ministers, and such as with address 
 
 I ind entrance into courts; — at banquets wait 
 Th' applause and smiles of underlings or great, 
 
 And deem the Sabbath a most fitting time 
 To deal out politics, and schemes narrate 1 
 
 Oh ! if to rob of paltry gold be crime, 
 Heaven's hours to desecrate, ah ! sure is guilt sublime! 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Then onward press, ye few, whose embryo law 
 
 For stinting poorer folk in Sabbath deeds, 
 1 nil oft hath struggled into being, — draw 
 
 An equal line for him whose sin thus leads 
 The noble, rich, or great to sow the seeds 
 
 Of dissipation's curse on Heaven's own day : 
 Those high-born sins — luxurious plenty's weeds, 
 
 Which tangle human hearts, and choke the way 
 To Christ's pure kingdom, yea and bid him cease to pray.
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 147 
 
 XXIV. 
 A brighter day o'er England's proud career 
 
 Is dawning yet. Lo ! death hath sped to light 
 Of Heaven, the monarch to his people dear ; — 
 
 Hath given to William, Jesu's mantle white, 
 And bade him with his father's tongue unite 
 
 In mansions Christ prepares, with endless song 
 To join the chorus of those myriad angels bright, 
 
 Who ever 'neath th' eternal throne, along 
 With the redeemed of every age, their hymn prolong. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 And what avails the sigh for goodness lost ? 
 
 Say why, oh muse ! thus led to mourn o'er those 
 Thy tears can ne'er recal. Enough ! Death's cost, 
 
 However great, may yet restrain the woes 
 Thine anxious bosom fill. For England owes 
 
 Its youthful monarch to a sainted one ; 
 From royal Edward's 111 sister's bosom flows 
 
 A purer stream of thought than late hath run 
 Through sovereign breasts. 'Tis well her uncle George 
 hath won 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 The goal of Death ; for anarchy and strife, 
 
 Now recklessly prevailing through the land, 
 Would sure have made our palaces more rife 
 
 With latent fears, had his unfit command 
 Still ruled Britannia ; — and in vain his bland 
 
 Benignant mien, and elegant address, 
 To calm the rebel waves on England's strand, 
 
 Which need a power divine to stem, and bless 
 A Christian monarch with a nation's happiness. 
 
 l 2
 
 1 l> MADH BSS [Cahto VII. 
 
 \ \ \ 1 1 . 
 Then hail to thee, VICTORIA !— monarch dear! 
 
 For many a bean has throbbed with patriot joy, 
 When thou the throne of Brunswick's race, so clear 
 
 From rival claims and envy's base alloy, 
 Did welcomely ascend; — and throngs employ, 
 
 1 Revising how a people's bliss to tell : 
 Oh! may no future indolence destroy, 
 
 For want of care, the fame thou bear'st so well ; — 
 No hastj choice of men, that kings so oft befell. 
 
 XXVI II. 
 
 The task is great, — the effort noble too, — 
 
 To sway with equity and peace these isles; 
 But be thy glory e'er to God in view, 
 
 And with His gracious, all-sustaining smiles, 
 Safe through each scene of Satan's countless wiles 
 
 Of worldling ministers, or lures of gold; 
 Of consort's wishes, — if his heart reviles 
 
 Our English modes, and would aught else uphold; — 
 Through each, through all, may Heaven's pure truth thy 
 heart enfold. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Then, England, joy to thee ! — thy rank, thy wealth, 
 
 Shall, as it did, the world's applause ensure ; 
 And long for her decrees and every health, 
 
 Our British souls unite to make secure 
 Her lofty State; — and late as time endure, 
 
 Show forth to other lands what God hath done 
 For those who seek Him Jlrst, with bosom pure, 
 
 And ask His sacred smile, — the victory won, — 
 To welcome them where shines Immanuel's glorious sun. 
 
 2
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 149 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Yes ! fain the muse in heavenly strain would sing 
 
 Of thy predicted future, fair young Queen ! 
 And to thy throne this votive offering bring, 
 
 That yet on England's ground may still be seen 
 A Christian bard, whose humble guise and mien 
 
 Fears not, with Jesus for his stay, with those, 
 The Byrons and the Scots, or Moores between, 
 
 To approach thy royal presence, and as flows 
 The strain of praise, to ask the smile a queen bestows. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Anon the past, in deep Lethean stream 
 
 Of by-gone ages, let the minstrel shun ; 
 And to those brighter realms, where Jesu's beam 
 
 Of mercy shines, and glory's race is won, 
 Full swiftly speed time's course ; and, duty done, 
 
 Explore the sinless days of future year; 
 But first a thousand worse must silent run 
 
 Their hours away ; and Christ's own reign appear 
 Triumphant round the globe ; — nor sin nor woe is here. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Yes ! to millennial scenes of perfect joy 
 
 Thy heav'nward flight, Parnassian muse, essay ; 
 And with angelic powers each verse employ 
 
 The coming glories of time to pourtray, 
 When, with the sun of each returning day, 
 
 May light and peace, and happiness attend 
 All human hearts, and countless spirits pay 
 
 Their orisons to thee — the sinner's friend — 
 Christ Jesus ! — Lord of Lords — and being's life and end !
 
 ] JO MADNESS [Canto VII. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Yea ! J If, ' the King of Glory !' — at whose voice 
 
 The 'everlasting doors' of life shall raise 
 Their hindering frame, and 'gates' of pride rejoice 
 
 To welcome thee ! — and with unceasing praise, 
 Thy deeds to number. Yes ! with rapturous gaze, 
 
 Attune their golden harps to songs of peace, 
 Of joy and love divine ; with seraph lays 
 
 Recount their own glad steps, and with increase 
 Of Eden's bliss, bid never sight of thee to cease ! 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Ah, yet again let Israel's psalmist sing — 
 
 Beloved of God, though not by sin unstained — 
 Through worlds proclaim it: — " Lo ! I come to bring 
 
 Peace on the earth, and happiness regained 
 By blood of mine ; and when through me attained 
 
 Salvation's boon, and sinless purity, 
 And mercy by self-sacrifice is gained, 
 
 Then will thine eye, oh man! enraptured see 
 O'er sin, and death, and grave, and hell, the victory!" 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Yes ! Zion hears, and Judah's daughters joy 
 
 That thine eternal judgments sway the earth ; 
 That ' light is sown' for Israel to enjoy, 
 
 And 'gladness for th' upright in heart' hath birth 
 In all her lands ! Then, sainted ones, go forth, 
 
 And breathe of Zion'fi Captain songs of love! 
 Of llim whose power — whose soul-redeeming worth, 
 
 No tongue can fully tell, or learning prove; 
 ' vain the noblest gifts — save Heaven's own fire doth 
 move.
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 151 
 
 xxxvi. 
 But dwell not, muse, o'er prophets' sacred ire, 
 
 Whether Isaiah sound the mystic song, 
 Or he — the plaintive one — with trembling lyre 
 
 Proclaim the judgments that to sin belong ; 
 And ere those days await earth's sinful throng, 
 
 Sound forth the curse of self, of lust, and pride, 
 And ' lofty looks of man' gold's heaps among 
 
 Shall be abased — nor * haughtiness' deride 
 That Lord who o'er thy glories pours his vengeance wide ! 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Then shall his day your oaks and cedars tend, 
 
 Proud ' Bashan' and proud ' Lebanon,' and you, 
 Ye * ships of Tarshish, — pictures' gay that lend 
 
 To earth-fed man such ' pleasant' hopes and view ; 
 His ' loftiness' shall Jesu's frown subdue, 
 
 And all his self-born * haughtiness' lay low ; 
 His * idols' shall the * moles and bats' pursue ; 
 
 To * clefts of rocks' shall man then trembling go, 
 And mourn when God 'shakes terribly the earth' with 
 woe! 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Then surely comes to pass, in those last days, 
 
 The lifting of Christ's house the hills above ; 
 And ' nations then shall flow,' with anthem'd praise ! 
 
 The myriads say, ' Come ye,' and in His love 
 Go ' to the mountain of the Lord,' to prove 
 
 His goodness — learn His ways — His footsteps tread ; 
 For ' out of Zion' God's own law shall move, 
 
 And from Jerusalem his word be read ; 
 While prouder nations he shall judge with thunders dread!
 
 152 MADNESS [Cant.. VII. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Their battles and their strifes lie will 'rebuke,' 
 
 And 'beat their swords' to shares of peaceful 'plough,' 
 The warrior's -pear to vine-man's ( prnning-hook ;' 
 
 And nation shall no more — as hapless now — 
 ' Lift up the sword 'gainst nation ;' or then bow 
 
 The youthful mind in war's forbidden lore; — 
 The Marlboroughs and Buonapartes, and thou, 
 
 Of modern times the chief, shall then no more 
 Find Wellingtons to ride 'mid victory and gore. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Nor let the muse forget that then, nor vice, 
 
 Nor pride of loftiest grade, shall England stain • 
 No M ******** "2 sway, at virtue's sacred price, 
 
 llcr counsels then ; nor modern R******m p a i n 
 A Briton's heart, some fancied good to gain; — 
 
 But ' in that day the branch' of Zion's King, 
 ' Be beautiful and glorious ;' and for the train 
 
 Of Israel's flock, each ' fruit' and blessed thing, 
 ' Be excellent and comely' — such as angels bring. 
 
 xu. 
 5Tesl then 'shall come to pass' that Zion's prized, 
 
 And he that, in our Israel's borders blest, 
 Remaineth firm, shall holy be baptised, 
 
 And 'mong those in Jerusalem, imprest 
 Emmanuel's name! When Zion's daughter, drest 
 
 In laved garments of Christ's spotless love, 
 And * purged the blood," Jerusalem that 'prest, 
 
 With sin's polluting weight, till from above 
 The spirit's judgments come, and fire her silver prove.
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 153 
 
 XLII. 
 Then on each dwelling place of Zion's mount 
 
 And ' her assemblies,' shall the Lord create 
 ' A cloud and smoke by day ' — her sons recount, 
 
 'Mid ' shinings of a flaming fire by night,' 
 The glories that her proud ' defence ' await — 
 
 A ' tabernacle's ' shadow in the day, 
 To veil the soul from sins inflaming heat ; 
 
 ' A place of refuge ' safely to convey 
 From storm and rain around; — for 'gallant ships' a bay. 
 
 XLI1I. 
 
 But first again the prophet's lyre complains 
 
 Of Moab's wrath, and haughtiness and pride ; 
 And bids that l Moab howl for Moab's ' stains 
 
 Of sin-engulphed peace ; and then shall guide 
 To Israel's altar, but the saints deride 
 
 The fruitless prayer, and he ' shall not prevail ;' 
 And when three years have Moab's glory tried, 
 
 The ' remnant small and feeble ' we shall hail, 
 Till Satan's bands no more her heavenly courts assail. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Yet once more that Bardic spirit fired, 
 
 And swept, with hand prophetic, o'er his lyre : 
 Yes ! with an energy by Christ inspired — 
 
 By Him who said with no unwonted ire, — 
 1 Ere Abraham was, I am !' — Isaiah's fire 
 
 And judgment voice, did of time's later days 
 Thus awfully pourtray the fate ; — and higher 
 
 Than Homer's or than Milton's epic lays, 
 Build monument of song to God's eternal praise.
 
 l.-,l MADNESS [Canto VII. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 • Behold the Lord, He maketh void the earth, 
 
 And tumetfa upside down each self-born scheme ; 
 Of all that there of Adam's race have birth, 
 
 1 h Bcatteieth wide, and breaks the palace beam : 
 v i i a ! as with people, so the priest shall seem ; 
 
 And with the servant, so the master too ; — 
 With the maid, the mistress like beseem; 
 
 And as the buyer, sellers so we view ; — 
 Li mlcrs and borrowers shall usurers pursue. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 " The land shall all be desolate and spoil'd, 
 
 lor thus the Lord hath spoken by his word; 
 The earth shall mourn and fade away; — man foil'd 
 
 In all his earthly hopes ; — and loudly heard 
 The wail of woe, and pride's rebellion stirr'd, 
 
 By Jesu's wrath shall languish and shall fade ; 
 Defiled all earth's inhabitants; — the herd 
 
 Of rich and noble faint; — and learning's trade 
 Of mending God's decrees, by ignorance displayed. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 " The new wine mourneth ; — languisheth the vine, 
 
 And all the mer/v-hearted deeply sigh ; 
 The mirth of tabrcts ccaseth ; — nor do twine 
 
 O'er minstrel lyres, joy's blissful poesy ; 
 The noise of the rejoicing ones, — the cry 
 
 Of Bacchanal's loud chorus too is still; 
 ^ i a, ceaseth it, the harp's light joy, nor try 
 
 Those mirthful songsters goblets then to fill 
 And sing with glee, for bitter is that drink and ill.
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 155 
 
 XLVIII. 
 " The city of confusion levelled lies, 
 
 And every house shut up that none come in ; 
 The cry for wine fair virtue's form defies ; 
 
 All joy is darkened, and man's laughter sin ; 
 The city, desolation, — while within 
 
 Her gates, destruction's swiftest arrow smites ; 
 And well may they who dwell — the lost — begin 
 
 To tremble for their self-bought proudest rights, 
 For in that day the Judge of all their sins requites. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 " Ah yes ! — when thus amid the land be seen 
 
 His vengeance sore — like as the olive tree 
 In shaking ;— as the grapes their damsels glean, 
 
 The vintage done, their eye lift up and see, — 
 Their tongue sing heaven's eternal majesty : 
 
 Yea ! from the sea, all these shall cry aloud ! 
 Wherefore glorify the Lord in fires, — He ! 
 
 Even the Almighty One, of Israel proud, 
 Whose name is in the sea's far isles, and city's crowd. 
 
 L. 
 
 " Sing ! — from the farthest verge of earth is heard — 
 
 Even glory to the righteous ! But I said 
 My leanness — oh my leanness ! — wrath is stirr'd ; 
 
 The treacherous have dealt treacherously, and fed 
 Themselves with treachery ! Then shall be read — 
 
 Behold ! fear and the pit and snare on thee, 
 Oh habitant of earth ! — and if sore dread 
 
 Bid thee from noise of fearful sounds to flee, 
 The pit awaits thy certain fall and destiny !
 
 156 \l \DM 98 [Canto VII. 
 
 LI. 
 
 "And he that from the pit doth come, the snare 
 
 Entraps ; for open are the windows high, 
 And earth's foundations shake, as there 
 
 "\'\< broken down, and moved exceedingly; — 
 Fea, clean dissolved ! The earth shall reel and be 
 
 Like drunkard — yes! like cottage be removed, 
 And heavy its transgression ; — for, oh see ! 
 
 Its fall is doomed; — and ne'er again be proved 
 By birth to sin, the luxuries and lusts it loved ! 
 
 i.ii. 
 " And in that day shall come to pass th' event 
 
 Decreed by lips divine: — the high one's host 
 The Lord shall punish, and to kings be sent 
 
 The mandate of his vengeance — but not lost ; 
 For, like as prisoners gathered to their post, 
 
 Or in the pit — shall there be gathered too — 
 But visited ere many days at most ! 
 
 Then shall the moon confounded be, nor true 
 The dial's sun ! — but all disturbs not Israel's few ! 
 
 LIII. 
 
 " For then the Lord of Hosts himself shall reign 
 
 In Zion's mount and in Jerusalem; — 
 , ^ ea .' gloriously amid His ancient's train !" — 
 
 Thus sang the prophet heaven-inspired, to them 
 Of Tyre ; and 'mid their pearls, and gold, and gem, — 
 
 Their ships of Tarshish, and their merchandise, 
 Did vainly strive sin's torrents deep to stem, 
 
 And bid them from voluptuous couch to rise, 
 And seek their God, ere yet in death He sealed their eyes.
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 157 
 
 LIV/ 
 
 Yet once again that sacred tome explore, 
 
 And from the bardic prophet's lays sublime 
 Extract gay Babylon's blythe song ; — once more 
 
 With Jeremiah's plaining accents climb 
 Those fearful heights of woe, which future's time 
 
 Shall bring on her, the city of the dead. 
 Yes ! in that prophet's boldest, loftiest rhyme, 
 
 Let Britain's— let all nations' doom be read — 
 If God be not adored, and hateful self be fled ! 
 
 LV. 
 
 " Thus saith the Lord of Hosts : — Israel's sons 
 
 And Jacob's children were oppressed ! — and all 
 That took them captive ; — pride's foul myrmidons 
 
 Fast held them, and refused their prayerful call 
 For liberty. But oh ! on them shall fall 
 
 Disquiet sore ; for their Redeemer 's strong — 
 The Lord of Hosts, His name ! He will appall 
 
 With thorough pleadings of truth's cause, — nor long 
 Withhold from rest, but chase the Babylonish throng ! 
 
 LVI. 
 
 " A sword is on Chaldea's hateful tribe, 
 
 Saith God the Lord ; — and on thy name so vile, 
 Besotted Babylon ! — nor can princes' bribe, 
 
 Nor wise man's lay, redeem th' avenging pile 
 Of your recorded sins and lust-born smile ! 
 
 A sword is on the liars, who deceive ; — 
 A sword is on the mighty man ; — oh isle 
 
 Of past iniquity ! — sin's mote receive 
 Within thine eye ; for thou dar'st not our Christ believe !
 
 158 M \i>m Sfl [Cahio vn. 
 
 J. VII. 
 
 •• \ sword is on their horses, and upon 
 
 Their chariots swift; their mingled people too — 
 Her i" the midst, the sword shall God put on; — 
 
 A woman's weakness man shall then subdue. 
 A -word is on her treasures, — her golden view 
 
 Is spoiled, her jewels robb'd, her splendour gone; 
 A drought is on her waters, — nor pursue 
 
 1 ler streams their course : — for idols have their throne 
 This land amidst : and deep the treasure-lovers' groan ! 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 "Therefore the savage beasts of earth and isles 
 
 Shall dwell therein — the owls too there shall dwell ; 
 Nor e'er again of man's love-beaming smiles, 
 
 Shall ling'ring habitant the future tell ; 
 Nor voice of bard e'er sing what there befel 
 
 Thy land, Chaldea; nor in latest years, 
 From generations past to time's last knell, 
 
 Of generations yet to come, — one dweller's cars 
 Be sooth'd with nature's melody — all waste appears ! 
 
 LIX. 
 
 " As Sodom and Gomorrah God o'crthrew, 
 
 And they, the neighbouring cities of the plain; 
 So saith the Lord, no human steps pursue 
 
 Thy paths, nor son of man a dwelling gain. 
 Behold ! a people from the North shall pain 
 
 Impart to you ; a nation great, and kings 
 Be raised up from earth's remotest main, 
 
 To hold the bow and lance, — and battle brings 
 Its meed of blood ; — and for sweet mercy, hateful things.
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 159 
 
 LX. 
 
 " Their voice, like seas shall roar, and they shall ride 
 
 On horses, — and in battle's proud array, 
 'Gainst thee, who dared the God Most High deride ; 
 
 Yes, thee ! oh, daughter fair, and loosely gay, 
 Of Babylon accursed ! and in that day 
 
 The sin-encircled king himself shall quake, 
 At hearing the report of them, and pray 
 
 His God offended. Yea ! his hands shall shake 
 With feebleness when Heaven his forfeit crown shall take! 
 
 LXI. 
 
 " Yes ! anguish shall seize hold of him, and pangs 
 
 As in a woman's travail ! Yea, behold ! 
 He shall come up like lion as with fangs, 
 
 From Jordan's swelling to the strong man's fold ! 
 But I, the Lord, will make these vaunters bold, 
 
 Suddenly flee ; and where the chosen one 
 I may appoint to govern her ? Who hath told 
 
 Of one like me ? Or who the times hath won 
 From God ? Or where my Shepherd, the appointed one ? 
 
 LXII. 
 
 " Hear, therefore, ye, the counsels of the Lord, 
 
 That he against proud Babylon doth swear ; 
 Yes ! hear the purpose of his changeless word 
 
 Against Chaldea's land ; for surely there 
 The least of Zion's flock shall draw, with prayer, 
 
 Their children out ; yes, surely, Israel's God 
 Shall make their habitation for a lair 
 
 Of desolating lions, and his rod 
 Their houses rase, and wild beasts range where men once 
 trod.
 
 lht) MADN ESS. [CAHTO VII. 
 
 I. Mil. 
 
 "And at the noise of Babylon's defeat, 
 
 The earth is moved : and great the nations "inong, 
 A cry ifl heardl" — So sang in accents meet, 
 
 Lorn lamentation's Bard : but deeper song, 
 And heavier woes are form'd amid the throng 
 
 Of poetry's deep thoughts in truth's bright page. 
 \ ( s, modern one ! take but thy soul along 
 
 The verse inspired of him, Ezckiel sage, 
 Or Daniel, — 'twill elevate thy wondering age !
 
 161 
 
 CANTO VII. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 I. 
 
 But ere the vent'rous muse her flight essay 
 
 To scenes millennial — time's yet future joys — 
 Isaiah, — fairest, brightest of the day 
 
 Of prophet age, — the minstrel 'gain employs, 
 To cull a warning lay, and blame the toys 
 
 Which yet too oft our modern fair ones seek 
 T' amuse the passing hour. Of the alloys 
 
 Of sense and earth-born bliss, with boldness speak, 
 As 'neath the grace befitting spirits pure and meek ! 
 
 ii. 
 " Rise up, ye women, that at ease remain ' 
 
 My voice, ye Zion's careless daughters, hear, 
 And let my speech your prayerful audience gain ! — 
 
 Many a day, and many a mournful year, 
 Shall trouble seize you, and the flowing tear 
 
 Proclaim your grief, ye heedless daughters fair ! 
 For aye the vintage fails ; nor shall appear 
 
 The wonted gatherers ! Tremble, lest despair 
 Chase far your ease; — yes! tremble — make your bosoms 
 bare, m
 
 },;., IffADM I - - [CAHTO VII, 
 
 III. 
 
 " And on your loins gird sackcloth; — for your fields, 
 Yt -hall lament their pleasantness; — the vine 
 ■ fruitful too. For lo! your land, it yields 
 But thorns and briers. These too shall idly twine 
 
 Around your joyous dwellings; and the wine 
 Of revelry flow hence no more within 
 
 Your joyous city! — for the palace fine 
 Shall be forsaken, and the city's din 
 In silence lie, and serpents foul shall dwell therein. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Its forts and towers shall be as beasts' dark dens. 
 
 And joy of asses wild. Yes! for your sheep 
 A pasturage, until the spirit kens 
 
 A renovated scene, and centuries sleep 
 Thy ruins 'mong; — with Pentecostal sweep 
 
 The Spirit from on high shall then descend! 
 The wilderness its curse no longer weep, 
 
 But fruitful field become; and forests bend 
 O'er fruitful field's exchange — till time itself shall end ! 
 
 v. 
 
 " Then judgment in the wilderness shall dwell, 
 
 And righteousness in fruitful field remain; 
 The work of righteousness be peace, and well 
 
 Time sec, for endless days th' effects — the twain 
 Of quiet and assurance! blessed gain! 
 
 My people, they shall dwell in pcaccfull hall, — 
 Shall in sure dwellings sleep and rest attain ! 
 
 When it shall hail, and winter's snow-storm fall 
 The forest on, — your city shall be safe from all !
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 163 
 
 VI. 
 
 " Oh ! blessed, saith our God, are ye that sow 
 
 Our heav'nly Zion's pearly streams beside ; 
 And blessed Him that bid their cattle go, 
 
 The feet of ox and ass to Jordan's tide !" 
 Thus, by Him inspired, whose kingdom wide 
 
 As space, — eternal as the heav'ns above, — 
 Isaiah sung ; and if that sacred guide — 
 
 The Bible — still be sought in faith and love, 
 Thy peace, oh sinner, thou mayst here in safety prove ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Enough of woe — enough of pride and sin — 
 
 The minstrel hath foreshewn. The curtain draw, 
 And of that brighter day the notes begin, 
 
 When truth and love shall be our Zion's law ; — 
 No pride in women, nor in man a flaw. 
 
 Her rivers pure, and all serene her skies, 
 The rich, the great shall now no longer awe 
 
 Their fellow-men; — but Jesus conquering rise 
 O'er Israel's foes — the proud of earth, and vainly wise ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Once more, oh Giver of all gifts ! the muse 
 
 Asks thy diviner aid, to sound to earth — 
 To man, in these that earth's yet embryo views, — 
 
 Those glories which thy full designs give forth ! 
 Give him to sing Jerusalem's newer birth, 
 
 And of those latter days by prophets told 
 Resound again time's once-revealed worth ! 
 
 When Israel's tents of Heaven's refined gold 
 Shall erst appear, and God her fainting sons uphold. 
 
 M 2
 
 164 MADNESH [Canto VII. 
 
 IX. 
 
 What ! though this globe a belt of sin surround; 
 
 DO 
 
 Nor o'er its spheric map our eye can see 
 From pole t<» pole — from east to west — the ground 
 
 Where Christ's beatitudes yet reverenced be; — 
 What! though from Zembla'a icy cape, to sea 
 
 Of Hindostan; — or South Pacific's space 
 Of ocean wide — nor isles, nor main are free 
 
 From sin and Satan's all-polluting race, — 
 Almighty love the plague can stay and sorrow chacc. 
 
 x. 
 
 Yes ! He, the Omniscient One, to furthest verge 
 
 Of earth's remotest bounds, can, in one day, 
 I Rebellious battle crush ; and guilt's last surge 
 
 Bid sleep the isles among. Of Him, oh sa\ ! 
 Is it not writ, a thousand years display 
 
 To his eternal view but one day's deed? 
 One day, to Him in latent blessings may 
 
 As rich be deemed, as when the historian reads 
 A thousand years of woe, and anarchy's cursed seeds. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Does thy bold doubling heart then say: — If thus 
 
 A (iod beneficent, and wise, and good, 
 ( mild this supernal boon impart to us, 
 
 Why, since the days of earth's recorded flood, 
 Hath man been mourning on, and ill withstood, 
 
 If He, the Lord of all, had thus decreed 
 A hcavenlicr state? — Blind man ! when understood 
 
 The secrets of th' Infinite ; thy soul may read 
 ( Ihrist's latent love through all ! — a mystery indeed !
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 165 
 
 XII. 
 
 Till then, in humbleness and silence bow, 
 
 At what nor mars thy peace, nor gives thee bread ; 
 For in thy Saviour happily mayst thou 
 
 Thy peace restore — by healthful labour fed : 
 Then silence, man ; nor dare His vengeanee dread 
 
 By speculations dark, and deep, and wild : 
 Those sacred words how many a soul hath read, 
 
 That when the giant Pride is slain, the child 
 Of promise comes! — Yes! on their faith hath Jesus 
 smiled. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Oh vain conceit ! — philosophy accursed ! 
 
 In thee to dare the secrets of a world — 
 To think that when thy airy bubbles burst, 
 
 And rays prismatic have thy globules pearled, 
 Thou canst, with reading laws of comets whirled, — 
 
 Of bubbles coloured — or of motion's force, — 
 Read also all of Him those stars that hurled, — 
 
 Man's vision gave ; — and in ethereal course, 
 Rolled suns and planets through yon sky, — of all the source ! 
 
 xrv. 
 Then, poor conceited man ! thy pride restrain, 
 
 And learn like Locke or Newton to esteem 
 Thy lore as dross — thy science as a gain 
 
 To Satan's converts, — till the piercing beam 
 Of Christ within shall, on thy soul, a gleam 
 
 Of heavenly light bestow: — and thou no more 
 Forget thy God ; — nor in time's idle dream, 
 
 Imagine thou canst his decrees explore, 
 Who built the world ! — be learned still, but Him adore !
 
 liii; \i \i>.\ i iVf vii. 
 
 XV. 
 
 OIi yea ! be learned still ; let science run 
 
 Her glorious race, and art her good display : — 
 Religion frowns not; Christ's millennial sun 
 
 Will shine on deeds which far surpass to-day : 
 Yes! future Watts and Arkwrights, Feels and they, 
 
 Who by the railway's speed of swiftest flight, 
 To man rich blessings yet unknown convey; — 
 
 Tclfords and Stcphensons shall bid their light 
 Of science blaze on future sinless regions bright. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 How simple then the process of the wise, 
 
 Who hold their gifts as talents only lent, 
 Who bid, each day, their orisons arise 
 
 To Him who with these earthen vessels sent 
 Such God-like minds ; and when on wisdom bent, 
 
 They bow submissive to that inward grace, — 
 That present Jesus, who by Jordan went 
 
 To rescue man : then, then, the heavenly race 
 Of virtue is begun ! — their souls shall see God's face. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 But ah ! ye proud, ye self-enthroned kings 
 
 Of learning, and of science bright, beware 
 Lest in that future fearful day, which brings 
 
 To Israel safety, 'whelm in black despair 
 Your Pharaoh hosts; — and Satan's deep-laid snare 
 
 Of earthly fame, and man's triumphant boast 
 To rule o'er second causes, bring ye care 
 
 Beyond escape ; a care which all your host 
 Of art's sweet luxuries, shall Heaven's pure blessings cost.
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 167 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Then turn, ye godless ones, and now believe 
 
 With Israel's prophet, that who thus defer 
 Their self-born glory to the Lord, receive 
 
 A ten-fold blessing ; — and that ^mid the stir 
 Of myriad sinners, who, unconscious, err 
 
 In vice's train, — ye gifted and ye few 
 Who hallow learning, and on art confer 
 
 A nobler grace, if ye to Jesus true 
 Remain, His love irradiates more the mental view. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Yes ! once again Isaiah sings ' that they 
 
 Their feet who from the Sabbath wisely turn, 
 And cease their pleasure on that holy day, — 
 
 And with an inward efficacy burn 
 The lamp of heavenly grace ; — their bosoms yearn 
 
 To honour Him, by calling a delight 
 That sacred Sabbath ; — and aye nobly spurn 
 
 All self-born thoughts and pleasure's sinful light; — 
 All words profane, — and aught that could Christ's babe 
 affright. 
 
 xx. 
 Oh, then ! (but not till then !) will God bestow 
 
 On you, ye sons of intellect and art, — 
 Ye p#####s, and ye B*******s— B*****s m too, 
 
 With all the train of learning's crowded mart, 
 His heavenly meed of ' perfect peace ;' your heart 
 
 Refine, and bid you then triumphantly to ride 
 O'er earth's high seats ; with Jacob too take part 
 
 And feed with heritage of his ; till pride 
 Subdued, as children ye become, and Christ's your guide.
 
 ] lis \l.\!>\ l BS [Canto vn 
 
 X XI. 
 
 Alas! more need, on this momentous theme, 
 
 To call the rich, and, ah! — the artist 11 '' throng 
 To Bcenes of Sabbaths broken; since the beam 
 
 In their besinning eyes is growing strong, 
 Each week's return ; for what by habit long 
 
 The mind has ventured, comes at last to be 
 But one, our various seeming claims among ; — 
 
 Till liberty of action thus left free, 
 Bid holiness and ordinance, if not virtue, flee. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Deemcst thou the muse unreasonably severe, 
 
 And that the studio, or the rich man's hall, 
 Is sacred ground ; — where nor the listening ear, 
 
 Nor prurient eye, nor Sabbath's morning call, 
 Entitles thee his industry, and all 
 
 1 lis genius owns, thus proudly to arraign ? — 
 W hen on this sin-girt world's terraqueous ball, 
 
 Thou prove that art or wealth can thus attain 
 Unfading peace, so living on, — I'll cease to pain. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 But it no prophet's sight needs to descry 
 
 What evils national await the lands, 
 When thus their Sabbaths godless men defy; — 
 
 For gold or fashion stretch unhallowed hands, 
 And touch forbidden works, which God commands 
 
 None to essay on this his sacred hour : 
 Yes ! ye directors and committees' bands, 
 
 Whose railroad attributes give you the power 
 To run or stay, — Heaven's wrath shall be your Sabbath 
 dower
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 169 
 
 XXIV. 
 Are there so weak, who from example take 
 
 Their measure of the Bible's law, and go 
 To France or Turkey, or where boors awake 
 
 To Christless rites, the Sabbath's dues to know ; — 
 To land of revolutionary woe, 
 
 Where Voltaire's, and where Robespierre's dark deeds 
 Of hideous mien — shew Scripture's deadliest foe, 
 
 And anarchy's fast friend ; — whose accent pleads 
 For liberty of sin — for rank rebellion's weeds? 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Go ye to her, that beauteous country, France, 
 
 To read of Jesu's holy walk the spring? — 
 Or will ye 'mid the Moslem's houries dance 
 
 Your Sabbath noon away ; — and think to sing 
 A roundelay of joy where harems bring 
 
 Voluptuous victims to your sated lusts ? — 
 If such be your report of him — the King — 
 
 The conqueror of sin — let him who trusts, 
 Such standard of devotion, heed not sages' busts ! 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 For whether in your libraries, or halls 
 
 Of state, the sons of genius proudly swell 
 Your decorated palaces and walls ; — 
 
 And heads of Solon, Locke or Newton dwell 
 Around your splendid galleries, all's well 
 
 In your esteem, — and time goes proudly on ; — 
 Nor reck ye of such vulgar scenes as hell, 
 
 Nor Lucifer's transcendant myrmidon — 
 Self-love ! — your thankless God of intellect's proud sun !
 
 17ii MADNE [Canto VII. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Rut, muse, forbear! — nor longer tempt thine ire 
 
 With hateful man's rebellious deeds of pride: — 
 Once more to holier themes attune the lyre 
 
 And Beck of Jesus the rapt soul to guide 
 'Mid scenes of bliss where love and peace reside ; — - 
 
 And the great scheme of God's creative will, 
 Shines forth in days when Christ shall aye preside 
 
 O'er earth's restored joys : — and bounteous still 
 To Z ion's sons and Z ion's daughters, goodness fill ! 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 For ah ! that goodness scarce conceals of life 
 
 The lowest surface ; — and the fated glass, 
 By man upheld, with sorrow's poison rife 
 
 Ne'er reaches half our longest days. Alas ! 
 'Tis we alone that err, and idly pass 
 
 From day to day — nay, on from year to year, 
 The Bible's truths as impotent ; — o'crpass 
 
 Its simplest mandates, till life's close appear, 
 And wonder then how much of sin's remorse is here ! 
 
 - 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Yes! muse, forbear the worldlings' hateful theme, 
 
 And ere the harp in silence sweet shall cease, 
 Give to those happier days, when Jcsu's beam 
 
 Of radiant glory bail the blest increase 
 Of standard-bearers in the cause of peace, 
 
 Of love, and truth, and learning's righteousness; — 
 Yes ! give to man from sin and woe release, 
 
 And sing, from Heaven's own page, how He will bless 
 Earth's new Jerusalem, — and seal man's happiness !
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 171 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " Thus saith the Lord: — In mine appointed time, 
 
 I heard thy cry and brought thee heavenly aid : 
 And will preserve thro' heights and depths sublime ; — 
 
 Yea! for a people's covenant I made 
 Thee to establish earth ; — and desert glade 
 
 For heritage, that thou in power mayst say 
 To Gentile prisoners, — go forth ; — from shade, 
 
 Sin's darken'd sons mayst freely hail away, 
 And bid to shew themselves, and feed on God's high-way. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " Nor biting hunger — fainting thirst, be there, 
 
 Nor sun's hot rays to scorch thine humbled face ; 
 For God himself shall hear thy welcome prayer; 
 
 In mercy lead thee, and thy sorrows chase ! — 
 Yea ! by the waters he will bend thy pace 
 
 And make his mountains paths ; — his valleys raise ; 
 And Zion's children come from far, — embrace 
 
 Those from the north and from the west ; and praise 
 Resound from Sinai's sons, — from Israel's far highways ! 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 " Sing, oh Heavens ! be joyful, oh thou earth ! 
 
 Ye mountains too in rapturous anthems break 
 Day's silent air! — for Jesu's second birth 
 
 Awaits the world ! — and God, whose terrors shake 
 The isles and seas, and bids the sun to quake, — 
 
 His chosen ones will comfort ; — and bestow 
 On Israel's sons a mercy that doth wake 
 
 The slumb'ring nymph, sweet gratitude, — and bow 
 The heart rejoicingly, and bid love's tears to flow !
 
 L72 MADNESS. [Camto VII. 
 
 WXIII. 
 
 "What tli"' 'twas Zion said, The Lord doth mc forsake, 
 
 Lnd all forgotten, Israel's deepest woes?" — 
 ( lease mourner, cease, and blessed comfort take 
 
 From promises assured; — song that Hows 
 In Heaven's own music, as from Prophet goes 
 
 The Language of rebuke. — 'The sucking child 
 
 DO O 
 
 ( Ian woman's heart forget? — or son of throes, 
 In travail borne, remember not, when smil'd 
 It- infant soul, and pity by contempt revil'd? 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 " Yes, woman may her infant babe forget ; 
 
 Nor have compassion on its feeble cries; — 
 Hut I — the Lord — hath ne'er forgotten yet 
 
 Thee, the beloved of men ! — lift up thine eyes, 
 Oh Zion, blessed one ! — for God will prize 
 
 Thy heart's best peace, and grave thee on His palm ; — 
 Thy walls and palaces shall yet arise, 
 
 And round thy dwelling, holy Jesus, calm, 
 Await thine eager child, and yield love's sacred balm.' 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 " So bounteous too, the Giver of all good, — 
 
 Thy land for Israel's numbers shall be small ; — 
 And Zion'- habitants around thee crowd, 
 
 And loudly for more space shall Israel call ; 
 So countless then the throngs in tent and hall ! 
 
 Then too, to Gentile lands shall prophets go, 
 And plant Christ's banner on the Moslem's wall; — 
 
 Shall in their arms, their new-born sons bestow, 
 And on their shoulders, daughters bear to bliss below.
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 173 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 "Yea! kings thy nursing fathers too shall be, 
 
 And queens thy nursing mothers ! — yes ! shall bow 
 To thee, to Jesus, and to God ; — shall see 
 
 Thy glory ; — lick the dust beneath, and shew 
 That I, the Lord, am God, and blessings vow 
 
 To those who wait for me ; — and all thy foes 
 Shall fall ; nor shall the mighty ones, as now 
 
 So fierce, hold yet their fray ; — but shall repose 
 Submissive to my voice, and patient hearts disclose. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 " Thine enemies on their own flesh shall feed, 
 
 And with their blood be drunken as with wine ; — 
 Then shall all nations, words and powers read 
 
 That plain declare, the sovereign rule is mine, 
 And I thy Saviour and Redeemer's line 
 
 Unite in God, in Jacob's mighty one." 
 Thus sang, in accents strong and lays divine, 
 
 The prophet; — and anon his brighter sun 
 Blazed o'er the page, and told his blissful song was done ! 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Blissful indeed, when thus his heav'n-taught lyre 
 
 Could sing of Israel's glorious latter days ; — 
 " Awake, awake ! put on thy strength, oh sire 
 
 Of endless generations, Zion's praise ; 
 Put on thy garments beautiful, and raise 
 
 Thine arm, Jerusalem ; — whom I have nam'd 
 The holy city ! — for in all thy ways 
 
 The uncircumcised, or they by sin inflamed 
 Shall come no more ; for thou sin's wand'ring ones hast 
 tamed.
 
 174 N ' LDWBSS. [Cakto vn. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 u O from the dust, Jerusalem arise, 
 
 And shake thyself; — in pcaccfulncss sit down ; — 
 And thou, Zion's daughter, captive prize ! 
 
 Be loosed from the bands thy neek enthrone; — 
 That all may know my power and name, and own 
 
 That I, the Lord, am he that speaks ! — yea, I ! 
 Th' Eternal One ! — nor longer shall the frown 
 
 Of Egypt or Assyria scare ; — nor fly 
 From other Pharaohs, Israel's later progeny. 
 
 XL. 
 
 " How beautiful upon the mountains arc 
 
 The feet of them good tidings who shall bring! 
 And publish peace 'mid nations erst at war; — 
 
 Yea, tidings good proclaim, and Jesu's wing 
 Encanopy the land ! — Salvation sing 
 
 And publish; and to Zion's hosts shall say, 
 Behold, behold, Immanucl is thy king ! — 
 
 And God, thy Lord, in that immortal day, 
 Shall reign supreme o'er Zion's boundless way. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 " Thy watchmen too shall lift their joyful voice, 
 
 And in blythe chorus heav'nly songs resound ! 
 ^ <•- ! they, a- eve to eye shall see; — rejoice 
 
 That Zion is restored and Israel found ! 
 In rapturous joy break forth ; — together sound 
 
 \ OUT hymns divine, ye places desolate 
 Of fair Jerusalem ! — For CJnd hath bound 
 
 Himself by promises, then to translate 
 Thy mourning ones, and comfort — yea, redeem — their state.
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 175 
 
 XLII. 
 
 " The Lord His holy arm hath bared before 
 
 The eyes of all the nations ; — and earth's end 
 Shall see our God's salvation, and restore 
 
 To every land its fruitful soil, where bend 
 The lofty trees ; — and other Edens lend 
 
 Their beauties and their rich fertility : — 
 But many are the marvels God shall send ; — 
 
 Him first, our Christ, whose high, whose blest degree 
 Shall silence kings, and they, unheard of things shall see. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 "Who hath believed our report? — to whom 
 
 Hath been revealed the arm of God, the Lord ? 
 For He, our Jesus, shall grow up, and come 
 
 Like tender plant before him ; yea, abhorred 
 By man, — nor form, nor comeliness afford 
 
 His aspect mean ; and when Him we behold, 
 There is no beauty in our Christ adored, 
 
 That we his presence should desire ; — is't gold 
 He brings to cheer fair Z ion's sons of Israel's fold ? 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 " Ah no ! — of man rejected and despised ! — 
 
 A man of sorrows and acquaint with grief; 
 And we our faces hid, and hearts disguised : — 
 
 Despised was He, — and we esteemed the leaf 
 Of prophecy, unworthy our belief! 
 
 Surely our woes, our sorrows he hath borne, 
 Yet we esteemed him stricken; — nor relief 
 
 For sinkings of his God awaited ; — lorn 
 And lone, afflicted was our Christ to life's last bourne !
 
 176 M IDH EE88. [( m po VII. 
 
 XI. v. 
 
 • Yet he, for our transgressions, bore tlio wound. 
 And for our dark iniquities was bruised ; — 
 
 Our peace's chastisement on Him was bound: 
 
 And with his stripes though healed, we } r ct refused 
 
 Hi- blessed voice ; — all we, like sheep, abused 
 His love, and fled; and each, to his own way. 
 
 Hath turned impenitent : — till God excused 
 Our failing hearts, and did to Christ convey 
 The iniquity of all; — transfixed on Calvary! 
 
 XL vr. 
 " He was oppressed; — He was afflicted; — still 
 
 He opened not his mouth ; — and, lamb-like, brought 
 To slaughter's carnage, or to shearer's fill 
 
 Of richest fleece, in silence came; — nor aught 
 Said He, the Saviour of the world ; no thought 
 
 Escaped his sacred lips ; but dumb to all, 
 From prison and from judgment he was caught 
 
 By Israel's sinning ones ; — but who can call 
 His generation, or declare what shall befall? — 
 
 XLVU. 
 
 " Cut off from out the living's land was He, 
 
 And for transgressing people stricken sore; 
 lie made his grave with wicked men; — yea, see! 
 
 With rich he was in death, though Israel o'er, 
 He'd done no violence; — nor aye before 
 
 Or men or angels, did the tongue's deceit 
 Betray a guileful mouth. And yet the more 
 
 Pleased it the Lord to bruise Him, and to greet 
 Hi- patient soul with grief, and bid all sorrows meet.
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 177 
 
 XL VIII. 
 
 " Rejoice, oh barren ! — thou who didst not bear ! 
 
 Break forth and sing aloud, untravailed one ; — 
 For lo, thy bounteous Lord's benignant care 
 
 Hath more of children given to Zion's Son 
 Than her, the wife, by legal triumphs won : — 
 
 The place of Israel's favoured tent enlarge, 
 And let the curtains shield from radiant sun 
 
 Thine habitations; — spare not, but give charge 
 To stretch thy cords, — thy stakes to strengthen more at 
 large. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 " For on the right and on the left shalt thou 
 
 Extend, — and Israel's chosen seed enjoy 
 The Gentile's heritage ; — a fruitful bough 
 
 Shall Zion be ; — her cities' throngs employ 
 Their myriad harps t' attune life's sacred joy : — 
 
 Fear not, bless'd ones, for not ashamed shall be 
 Thy virgin daughters ; nor shall sin's alloy 
 
 Confound or put to shame ; thy youth too free 
 Forget ; — forget thy widowhood's reproachful glee. 
 
 L. 
 
 " Thy Maker is thy husband — Lord of Hosts 
 
 His name; — and thy Redeemer too is known — 
 The Holy One of Israel : — Jesus boasts 
 
 With chorusses around Heaven's highest throne 
 That He, the God of all the earth, alone 
 
 Is called. The Lord, oh Zion ! thee hath hailed; — 
 In spirit grieved, and, desolate, thy moan 
 
 Lamenting, heard; when, as a wife, bewailed 
 Thy youth, a youth's refusal, — peace thy soul regaled. 
 
 N
 
 17s HADNE88 lkto \ II. 
 
 i.i. 
 
 • For a small moment, Baith thy glorious God, 
 
 I did forsake thee, but with mercies great 
 Will gather thec. In wrath I held a rod, 
 
 And, for a moment, hid my face, to wait 
 Thy love's return : — but oh! that blissful state 
 
 Of mercy's everlasting kindness true, 
 I will extend: — and joy shall thee await, 
 
 th He. the Lord, — thy bless'd Redeemer too: — 
 Then fear not, for eternal Eden is in view. 
 
 i. ii. 
 "This promise is, as Noah's waters were : — 
 
 For as I swore that they no more should wa 
 The verdant earth, so never wrath shall stir 
 
 Thy Saviour's bosom, and again in haste 
 Rebuke thee ; — yea, the mountains shall have passed 
 
 Away; the hills too be removed far ; — 
 But ah ! my kindness still thy soul shall taste, 
 
 And peace's covenant, on heaven-borne car, 
 1 lescend from Him whose mercies true and changeless arc. 
 
 i.nr. 
 "O thou afflicted and with tempest tost, 
 
 Nor comfort know'st ! — behold, thy stones I lay 
 With colours fair, and thv foundation's cost 
 
 Shall be of sapphires rich, and light of day 
 Through agates beam ; thy gates, the glorious way 
 
 To Zion's hill, carbuncles shall adorn, 
 And all thy border- pleasant stones display; 
 
 Thy children too, be taught at early morn 
 In righteousness; — and peace in their young hearts be bom.
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 179 
 
 LIV. 
 
 " No weapon prospers that is formed 'gainst thee, 
 
 And every tongue that judgment of thee dares, 
 Shalt thou condemn. To sons of Zion free, 
 
 This is the heritage ; — God's blest servant shares 
 My righteousness, saith He, the Lord of prayers : — 
 
 Ho, every one that thirsteth then, and come 
 To Zion's waters; — He whose treasure wears 
 
 The poor man's share, come buy, and to thy home 
 Bear wine and milk, and gold-less, eat Christ's honeycomb. 
 
 LV. 
 
 " My thoughts, saith God, are not, oh man, as thine, 
 
 Nor ways like yours, saith Heaven's eternal king: — 
 Far as yon sky, ye learned ones, do mine 
 
 'Bove your low ways ascend ; — yea, my sons bring 
 From loftiest realms of space, Christ's offering : — 
 
 My thoughts, in truth, as Heaven this earth transcends, 
 Thy thoughts excel ; for as earth's watering, 
 
 The rain and snow come down, — with harvest sends 
 Aye to the sower, seed, — and eater, bread ; — so lends 
 
 LVI. 
 
 " The Great and Mighty One, his heavenly word 
 
 To mortal man : — nor shall it void return, 
 But safe accomplish what He deigns t' accord 
 
 His sacred will ; and prosperous breathings burn 
 In Zion's hearts ; for joyful shall ye yearn 
 
 O'er Judah's peace. — The mountains and the hills 
 Break forth in song ; — umbrageous forests turn 
 
 Their vocal tops to Him ; while gladness fills 
 The valley through : — for ever past life's care-born ills, 
 
 n 2
 
 1 vi, M IDN ESS. ' IKTO VII. 
 
 lvii, 
 "Then, ah then ! shall Eden's curse be staid ; 
 
 And for the thorn, the fir-tree shall arise; 
 And for the brier, come the myrtle's Bhade ; — 
 
 Yes, these shall be unto the Lord most wise, 
 For Xion's name ; and the acclaiming Bkies 
 
 Shall hail the change, as everlasting sign 
 That ne'er again shall Israel's beaming eyes 
 
 With tears be fill'd; nor .Tudah's daughters pine 
 O'er mercy's promise lost; — all, all is joy divine. 
 
 LVII I. 
 
 •• \rise and shout ! for Jesu's light is come, 
 
 The glory of the Lord shines forth on thee ; 
 The waiting Gentiles from their distant home 
 
 Thy light approach ; and kings shall come to sec 
 The brightness of thy rising ! o'er the sea 
 
 Extend afar thy sight, for gladly they 
 Themselves shall gather, and to Zion ilee. 
 
 Sons come from far, and daughters hail the day, 
 When at thy side they're nursed, and thee their offerings 
 
 pay- 
 
 LIX. 
 
 "The wolf and lamb together then shall feed; 
 
 The lion too, cat straw like ox or sheep ; 
 And dust shall be the serpent's food indeed : — 
 
 For loathsome then, its folds cncoiling keep 
 Their desert place ; nor woman longer weep 
 
 1 [er Eden sin, but bruise his fanglcss head ! — 
 Then shall the earth in halcyon slumber sleep, — 
 
 Nor sinners more my holy mountain tread ; 
 Nor yet destroy nor hurt redeemed Israel's bed.
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 181 
 
 
 LX. 
 
 " Then shalt thou see,— yea, and together flow : — 
 
 Thine heart shall fear, and be enlarg'd with peace, 
 Because the sea's abundance he'll bestow, 
 
 And Gentile forces come to thee ; — nor cease 
 The camel droves in multitudes t' increase 
 
 Thy store ; of Midian and of Ephah too, 
 The dromedaries come ; and the decrease 
 
 Of Sheba, shall to Zion's raptured view 
 Bring store of gold and incense, Heaven's high praise to 
 shew. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 " All the flocks of Kedar then shall range 
 
 Thy pastures, blessed land ! Nebaioth's ram 
 Shall minister to thee ; — no longer strange 
 
 Thine altar ; — they shall come, and change the lamb 
 Acceptably ; — and he, — the great I am — 
 
 The palace of his glory, glorify ! — 
 Who are these, that mid the heavens so calm 
 
 Fly as a cloud ; — as to their windows high 
 On joyous wing the tender doves thus gladsome fly? 
 
 LXII. 
 
 "Surely the isles for me shall, patient, wait ; 
 
 And Tarshish ships from distant seas shall bring 
 Their sons ; their silver and their golden state 
 
 These Gentiles also bear, and to the king 
 On Jacob's throne, give faith's pure offering 
 
 Unto the name of Him, the Lord thy God — 
 The Holy One of Israel ! — whose bright wing 
 
 O'ershadows thee ; and Christ, who bleeding trod 
 The stage of life, — adored, shall chase affliction's rod.
 
 V \|\ [Canto VII 
 
 I, XIII. 
 
 Strangers 1 Bona thy city's walls shall build, 
 
 And earthly kings then minister to thee; 
 
 I or in my wrath thy sinning ones I kill'd : — 
 
 But now hath mercy's favours flowed from me 
 Therefore, too, thy gates continually 
 
 Be open : neither shut by day nor night : — 
 I 'hat to th\ folds the Gentile force may flee, 
 
 \iid kings be brought; — all else shall perish quite, 
 Ami nations without thrones be whelm'd in Satan's fight. 
 
 LXI\. 
 
 " The fame of Lebanon shall come on thee; 
 
 The fir-tree and the pine, and hard-stemm'd box, 
 Together come; — and beautify for me 
 
 My sanctuary's place; — and on the rocks 
 Of Zion's hill, far from all ruthless shocks 
 
 Of power satanic, glorious shall be made 
 Mv tret's immortal place; — and he who knocks 
 
 With suppliant hand, and bending comes in shade, 
 Shall blessed be ; on him shall mercy be display'd. 
 
 " All the despising ones, themselves shall bow 
 
 In humbleness to me; and thee shall call 
 The city of the Lord ! — and Zion, thou 
 
 To Israel's holy one build up thy wall ! 
 For though, in earlier days, thy memory small 
 
 Men had forsaken, — hated and despised, — 
 And none went thro' thy palaces, or hall 
 
 Of sires; — thy joy shall yet be undisguis'd, 
 And excellence eternal be esteem'd and prized !
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 183 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 " Then, Zion thou, the Gentiles' milk shall draw, 
 
 And kingly breasts shall gladly nourish thee ; 
 And thou shalt know that I, the Lord of law 
 
 On earth, and princes' boasted equity, — 
 Am thy Redeemer ! — and that all from me 
 
 Flows forth — the mighty one of Jacob's sons ! 
 For brass, gold will I bring ; — for iron, see 
 
 The silver bright; — and brass for wood; — for stones, 
 Behold the ductile iron now thy mandate owns. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 " Thy officers of power will I make peace, 
 
 And thine exactors, holy righteousness ; — 
 Fierce violence no more be heard, and cease, 
 
 Within thy borders, wasting and distress : 
 But thou shalt call — oh glorious happiness ! 
 
 Thy walls salvation and thy portals praise ! 
 Phoebus no more thy dazzled eye shall press, 
 
 Nor full-orbed moon give forth her lambent rays ; — 
 The Lord shall be thine everlasting light of days ! 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 " Thy sun no more shall set, nor moon withdraw 
 
 Its beams from thee ; for thine eternal light 
 The Lord shall be ; and thou, in prostrate awe, 
 
 Shalt see thy day of mourning ended ; — night 
 Decreed to death. Thy people then upright 
 
 The land inhabit ; and for endless days 
 Be God's own branches, and his work requite 
 
 With glory; — a little one a thousand raise, 
 And small, a nation strong. The Lord will haste His praise."
 
 18 i M.\l>\ I - I (axto VII. 
 
 i.xix. 
 
 - Bang the Prophel Hard of Israel's race: 
 
 And if. oh thou ! whose eyes these verses scan, 
 Truly of God desirest wisdom's grace, 
 
 And yield'st with heart believing to His plan, 
 E'en iimr that glorious Zion hath began 
 
 Her work within thee ; — and thy listening car 
 Shall own how great the danger lest that man, 
 
 To whom the Bible's inspiration clear 
 1 ent, should lose his Heaven from coward fashion's fear. 
 
 i.xx. 
 Fashion's fear ! — even so ; thou reckless wight, 
 
 Whom gold, or rank, or learning can ensnare 
 To base forgetfulness of God ! — and light 
 
 Of intellect, but ill can self-love spare 
 To guide our heavenward course ; — or lift the prayer 
 
 Of child-like humbleness; — and yet if words 
 Of Holy Writ, and Jesu's truth be there, 
 
 Not all your millions of unsheathed swords, 
 (Jan turn one tittle of that wrath, which vengeance hoards! 116 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Oh ! trust for once, poor self-exalted thing ! 
 
 A poet's deeply monitory lay ; — 
 Vain all your triumphs till to Christ you bring 
 
 Your earthly crowns, and penitently say, 
 " Lord ! worthless I ; to thee most humbly pray 
 
 To give a heart of flesh for this of stone ; 
 To chase all fears, and blot my sin- away ; 
 
 On reason's seat, faith's sovereign peace enthrone, 
 And fear's dark doubtings be henceforth for ever flown."
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 185 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Worldling of high, or wit of low degree, 
 
 All stand the same m in death's impartial court ; 
 The beggar too, shall as his monarch be, 
 
 When trembling pride receives its mortal hurt : — 
 Then too, alas ! will come your sovereign's sport : 
 
 For ye are Satan's subjects, and your pride 
 Must bow at his behest ; his the dread forte 
 
 At agonised remorse, to laugh, and chide 
 With loudest scoff of hell, the fool that bade him guide. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 Oh ! let a brother sinner thee implore, 
 
 Who readest here the minstrel's page, to ask 
 If under human laws, and kingly store 
 
 Of earth's best wisdom, thou canst idly bask ? — 
 Nor e'er thy conscience-stricken memory task 
 
 With nought rebellious to the King of Kings ; 
 The palace hells frequented, and the cask 
 
 Of Bacchanal's deep stream ; or virtue's wings 
 By lust defiled; — say, what the verdict conscience brings?— 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Yes ! ye who tended to his kingly grave, 
 
 The last of Guelphic race by death o'erthrown ; — 
 Say, was there in that pageant aught could save 
 
 From God's descending ire, and misery's moan 
 At long; forgotten mercies ? If, nor throne 
 
 Of Williams or of Georges, could bestow 
 Exemption from sin's retrospective groan, 
 
 Where, ah ! where, will your lorn spirits go 
 For peace at last, if ye no Saviour's ransom know ?
 
 MADN] [CAHTO VII. 
 
 i.wv. 
 
 Oli! list again what Heaven through John declares, 
 
 Whin of the last dread days, inspired he sung; — 
 And told, ere yet hlest Zion's princess wears 
 
 I [er bridal robes, strange woes the nations 'mong 
 Should sweep the land. Thussaith the angel's tongue: — 
 
 " As thief behold I come. Thrice blessed he 
 Who watcheth well ; — whose spotless garments hung 
 
 Securely round his form, that none may sec 
 His Bhame and nakedness, — display all purity. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 " Into one place he gathercth nations round, 
 
 And when that angel — (seventh and the last !) 
 Poured out his vial, lo ! — the trembling ground 
 
 From Heaven's high temple heard, as with a blast 
 Of Gabriel's trumpet, — 'It is done ! — all past !' 
 
 Then were there voices ; and the thunders roar, 
 And lightning's vivid arrows, through the waste 
 
 Affright the living ; and of earthquakes sore, 
 
 A n-rcater one is here than e'er shook earth before. 
 
 o 
 
 lxxvh. 
 
 " The city too was then divided twice, 
 
 And all the concourse of the nations fell ; — 
 Great Babylon's remembrance, and her price 
 
 Of God-defying glory: — lie will well 
 Repay with wrathful cup what erst befell 
 
 His sorrowing servants, and wrath's fiercest wine 
 Burn their proud lip ; — yea ! every isle shall tell 
 
 By flight, distress; —and mountains too, combine 
 To leave their solid place, and all their pomp resign.
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. ]87 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 " At that dread hour of God's avenging ire, 
 
 Will fall on man, a great destroying hail ; — 
 And then as now, shall men their bosoms fire 
 
 With blasphemy of rage ; — yes, sore bewail 
 That scourging plague — that devastating hail !" 
 
 Again the isles hear Revelation's voice, 
 And frighted worldlings pour their descant wail ; 
 
 For then, alas ! to them remains no choice 
 Of good to come, — untaught with Jesus to rejoice. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 " Another angel came, with seraph power 
 
 Descended swift, and 'mid unearthly light 
 Shed forth his glory, crying, ' This the hour 
 
 When Babylon the great is fallen quite ; 
 Yea, fallen ! — and become of evil sprite 
 
 A loathsome dwelling, and for devil's hold 
 Of spirits foul ; — a cage, with horror dight, 
 
 For every unclean bird ; — the plague-struck fold 
 Of man's low pride ; — of lust, of blasphemy and gold.' 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 " Her rampant sins have reached the eternal throne, 
 
 And God remembereth her rebellions well ; — 
 Yes ! now requites the martyr's dying groan 
 
 With double portion of reward; — and hell 
 Receives her chosen ones. What times past befell 
 
 Of persecution's deeds, shall He return 
 With cup twice filled by Satan's demons fell : — 
 
 How much did erst her glory proudly burn 
 And she deliciously reposed — fill up death's urn.
 
 Igg HADN1 KTO VII. 
 
 LXXXL 
 
 ( >f torment and of sorrow give as much 
 
 ihe of sin's voluptuous rivers drank ; 
 For Bb.e hath dared each mentor's faithful touch 
 To spurn, and say, ' Behold my queenly rank 
 The nations 'mong; — no widows' waitings dank 
 
 Oppress mine ear; — no sorrow shall I see !' 
 Therefore shall her treasure's faithless bank 
 
 Be broken : — in that day her plagues shall bring 
 Pale death and mourning sad, with famine's ruthless king. 
 
 i . x x x 1 1 . 
 " In that dread day, with God's avenging fire 
 
 She shall be burnt; for He who judgeth all, — 
 The Lord ! — is strong, and in his heavenly ire, 
 
 Will bid earth's king bewailingly to call 
 And her lament : — yes! to their palace wall 
 
 Each royal race shall turn, and loudly mourn 
 Their fornication and luxurious thrall 
 
 Of life corrupt; — when as her turrets burn, 
 They sec her smoke ascend, and o'er her beauties yearn. 
 
 LXXXHL 
 
 • Standing far off, in fear's remorseful groan, 
 
 And at her torment crying loud and long : 
 ' Alas I a!;i- 1- -tb.it city Babylon 
 
 Is fallen ! — that great and mighty city — strong 
 In battle, and in learning, art and song: 
 
 Behold in one short hour, her judgments eome ; — 
 And merchants, earth's remotest isles among, 
 
 Weep and mourn o'er her ; — from their distant home 
 S id forth lamenting strains o'er her ill fated tomb.'
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 189 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 " Yea ! merchants of her spoils, shall weeping stand, 
 
 And they whose wealth from Babylon did flow, 
 Bewail the torment of her guilty land, 
 
 And say, — ' Alas ! that city great, her woe 
 Excels all earth's calamities !' — shall know 
 
 That, in one hour, her riches God destroys ; — 
 And they who to the ocean's depths did go 
 
 On freighted embassies of golden toys, 
 Shall see her smoke ascend and mourn their fleeting joys! 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 "Dust on their heads shall cast and wailing cry, 
 
 ' Alas ! alas ! that city grand, wherein 
 The rich were fed with gold, and ships on high 
 
 Filled with her costliness; — the curse of sin 
 Hath 'whelmed her quite ; — and desolate within 
 
 She prostrate lies in one sad sorrowing hour !' — 
 But ah ! ye holy ones, let now begin 
 
 Your anthems and rejoicings ; for her power 
 O'er you hath ceased, and God's avenging judgments lour. 
 
 LXXXVT. 
 
 " Most true and righteous are His unseen ways, 
 
 And He hath judged thee, Babylon the vile ! 
 His prophets and apostles of all days — 
 
 Who shed their blood for Christ, in death could smile 
 And pray for those who martyred them ; — erewhile 
 
 By Him forgotten, — or that seemed so, — 
 Are now avenged ; nor shall her gems and gold 
 
 Beguile the messenger of wrath and woe, 
 Which, in that coming hour, shall God on her bestow !
 
 MADNESS [Canto VII. 
 
 I. XXXVII. 
 
 rhese things accomplished, — lo, I «u\ heaven ope, 
 And on a horse, white as the snow's first flake, 
 
 Sal Him, the faithful and the true, whose scope 
 Of princedom and of judgment, earth doth take 
 
 The isles and nations o'er; — and battle make, 
 
 And vengeance send; — and He, that mighty One, 
 
 Had eyes as flames of fire, that ne'er awake 
 To sorrow more ; — His head had crowns upon 
 It- lordly height; — nameless, — save to Himself alone. 
 
 I.XXX\ III. 
 
 "His clothing was of vesture dipped in blood, 
 
 And He was called by saints of God, — the Wohp ! 
 Heaven's armies followed him ; all they who stood 
 
 The shock of persecution, — and did gird 
 Their forms celestial with truth's flaming sword, 
 
 And purest robes of righteousness all white ! — 
 Lo ! on their captain's garments see restored 
 
 His glorious and His ancient name of light ! 
 Angels, then, — 'King of Kings — and Lord of Lords!' — did 
 write. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 \nd I, John, saw the Heavens and earth renewed; — 
 
 The first had past away, and I beheld 
 Jerusalem the fair!— that city, viewed 
 
 Descending from on high, by Christ impelled, 
 And as a bride adorned ! — by Him upheld 
 
 This glorious tabernacle ! — Then 'twas said 
 Behold Heaven's temple is with men, and well'd 
 
 With living waters ; and by Jesus fed, 
 Here God himself shall dwell, and be their holy head!
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. 191 
 
 xc. 
 
 " Yea ! from their eyes all tears be wiped away : — 
 
 Nor death, nor sorrow, crying nor despair, 
 Nor flesh's pains be found ; — the former day 
 
 Hath passed ! and He that ever ruleth there, 
 Did from His throne, in heavenly strain, declare, 
 
 Behold e'en I, the Lord, make all things new ! — 
 And thus th' Eternal did his mandate bear, 
 
 And bid me quickly write : — These words are true 
 And faithful ; — to thy tents repair and grace renew ! 
 
 xci. 
 " Lo ! I am Alpha, the beginning Word ; 
 
 And Omega, the end of all things here ; 
 To him that is athirst I will accord 
 
 Of life's pure fountain, holy as 'tis clear ; 
 And he that overcometh sin and fear 
 
 Shall joys inherit ! — I, his God will be, 
 And he my son ; — no temple there appear, 
 
 For I, — the Lord Almighty, — will decree 
 The Lamb its temple there ; yea all, his glory see ! 
 
 xcn. 
 " Nor sun nor moon blest Zion needs to shine ; — 
 
 For God's own glory lightens it ; and ray 
 Of Jesu's heavenly crown, with His combine 
 
 To give eternal light! — and kings, and they 
 The great of earth, their honours shall convey ; — 
 
 The ransomed myriads too, that walk her streets, 
 Shall share that light resplendent ! and the day — 
 
 For night is not — no portal shut, — there meets 
 Each blissful eye ; while joy her matin song repeats.
 
 192 m idm ess i into vii. 
 
 XCIII. 
 '• lie there displayed a limpid river pure 
 
 Of life's Immortal spring, as crystal clear — 
 That from the throne of God, the Lamb, secure 
 
 From sin's polluting stains, did then appear ! 
 And in that city's midst, the timeless year 
 
 Shewed by the river's brink, the tree of life, 
 W Inch yielded fruits, and leaves to dry the tear 
 
 Of sorrowing nations, and their bosoms rife 
 ^ i tli griefs, in power to heal —and stay sin's deadly strife. — 
 
 xen . 
 " No curse Satanic there, but throne of God 
 
 Ami Christ, the spotless Lamb, be proudly raised; — 
 And saints and martyrs — they who erst had trod 
 
 The narrow path, and Jesu's offerings praised, 
 Shall serve Him ever; — and as there they gazed, 
 
 Shall see His face, and on their foreheads sealed, 
 His name be found ! — dark Lucifer's be razed ! 
 
 Behold, saith Christ: — ' I come and quickly yield 
 The blessings which my holy prophets have revealed !' 
 
 xcv. 
 "Thrice blest art they, the sayings here that hold; 
 
 For lo I come ! yea, quickly come, and will 
 With righteousness award time's meed; — the gold 
 
 Of the eternal mines, to those who still 
 Hold fast their faith in me; — and wisely fill [prayer; 
 
 Their lamp- with oil, their hearts with grace and 
 And as their works partake no sin-fraught ill, 
 
 They to the tree of lite have passage there, 
 And Zion's pearled gates shall enter without fear !
 
 Can-to VII.] MADNESS. 193 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 " I, Jesus, have mine angels sent e'en now, 
 
 To testify, throughout the church's bound, 
 These sacred truths ! — and with a holy vow 
 
 To seal their birth : — when Israel shall have found 
 That I the root of David am ; — around 
 
 My rays be seen ; — the bright and morning star ! 
 And then the Spirit and the bride's sweet sound 
 
 Of ' Come ' be heard ; — and they that righteous are, 
 Shall echo ' Come !' — advancing on Immanuel's car ! 
 
 xcvn. 
 " And now the book is sealed, and he that dares 
 
 To add to these the prophet's heaven-taught strains, 
 Shall of the plagues here written, and the cares 
 
 Of mental woe, receive his prideful pains ; — 
 Or if of truths this sacred page contains, 
 
 He aught abstract or mar, his future part 
 In life's immortal book no more retains 
 
 His Judge ; — but Christ shall bid that soul depart — 
 From out the heaven-built walls of Zion's holy mart! 
 
 xcviir. 
 " And He that of these things doth testify 
 
 Now saith : ' I come ! yea, surely, quickly come !' 
 And he whose venturous wings of faith outfly 
 
 All other prophets, said: — 'Lord Jesus, come!' — 
 And then with apostolic love, for some 
 
 Of Israel's favoured ones, asks grace divine ! 
 Yes ! for his seven-church brethren sought their home 
 With special grace to bless, and peace entwine 
 Their hearts around, and in one heavenly bond combine!" 
 
 o
 
 \l IDNES8 I ihto vi (. 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 Reader ! of thee the bard entreats belief, 
 
 That these predicted and thrice glorious days 
 Shall in the world, as in the Scripture's leaf, 
 
 Be realized ; — and that thy soul delays 
 Not to believe that, as Christ's sceptre sways 
 
 O'er other woes, and gives a fairer field 
 To future throngs, sure then no longer stays 
 
 One Maniac's Hall ! — but mind, as body, yield 
 A Bpotless intellect, — by darkness unconcealed! 
 
 c. 
 5Tes ! then exalted shall that man be known 
 
 Who gives to Christ his talents thus refined ! — 
 And noble, as irradiant, virtue's crown 
 
 Appear to all, as triumphs then the mind 
 O'er powers, unfclt before — by Heaven designed 
 
 For higher use; — the humble and the wise, 
 Anon rejoicing in perennial light, 
 
 Shall, thro' their conquering Saviour's beaming eyes. 
 Read Eden's bliss restored in truth's immortal guise ! 
 
 ci. 
 
 And now the minstrel's task is well nigh done; 
 
 Nor heedful he what man's contemning voice 
 May say, if here the approving smile be won 
 
 Of Jesu's heavenly love : — 'twill more rejoice 
 The Bard's adventurous muse, than loudest noise 
 
 Of fame's but mortal tongue; and aye impart 
 Nor plaudit nor rebuke. For his the choice 
 
 Of maniac theme, and his the practised heart 
 Those woes to feel, and give to sorrow verse's art !
 
 Canto VII.] MADNESS. lijj 
 
 CII. 
 
 If to thy soul — lorn, sorrowing one ! — be sent 
 
 In mercy here some latent balm of peace ; — 
 If o'er thine ills these lays, not idly spent, 
 
 Shall breathe relief, and hope's fair dawn increase, — 
 And haply bid thy plaintive sighs to cease, 
 
 'Twill serve to raise to Christ — thy saving Lord, 
 A suppliant eye to ask of him that ease 
 
 Thy soul demands, and ransom to afford 
 Its sin-bound state ; — this boon to prayer he will accord. 
 
 CUT. 
 
 Oh! — vain all self-sought cure of mental ill ! — 
 
 For while on earth sin's rampant powers shall reign, 
 Weak reason's stream, and intellect's proud will 
 
 Distorted aye shall be, and maniac's pain 
 Be thine — oh man ! — Yes ! Madness yet will gain — 
 
 (So dares the muse in faith to prophecy) ! — 
 A more extended sway o'er earth's domain; — 
 
 And till the soul's deep fount we purify, 
 That growing ill the body's healing will defy. 
 
 civ. 
 
 Then, harp, farewell ! and to thy God, oh bard 
 
 Of England's far-taught tongue, commit the lay ; — 
 For He thy trembling step shall safely guard, 
 
 And through the world's wide waste in peace convey 
 Thy lengthened numbers. In that future day 
 
 Of righteous retribution, shall restore . 
 The muse her rights ; her unjust woes repay, 
 
 And bid her, with thanksgivings, to adore 
 The hand that from her griefs, of joy hath dealt her more.
 
 196 « IDNESS. [Canto VII. 
 
 cv. 
 Once then again, dear soothing harp, farewell ! 
 
 Bard of the isle! — ask silence to arrest 
 Thy lingering song ; — and bid the evening knell 
 
 Of labour's curfew bring thee peaceful rest ; — 
 Calm on thy pillowed memory's faithful breast, 
 
 Yet untold mercies leave, ere thus again 
 Thy harp, — by future's prayerful tongue addressed, — 
 
 Sound forth some grateful lay to Ilim, of men 
 The Saviour! — and the guide of Christian minstrel's pen!
 
 NOTES.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO I, 
 
 Note I. Page 1. 
 
 "Bard of the Isle!" 
 
 With one or two trifling exceptions, the author had not attempted 
 rhyme since the composition of a fugitive piece, written on the Island 
 of Heligoland, at the mouth of the Elbe ; — where, as stated in his 
 notes to the " Diary of a Solitaire," — he spent six weeks in the 
 Summer of 1809 ; — or upwards of five and twenty years prior to the 
 composition of the present poem. 
 
 Note 2. Page 1. 
 
 " Where ne'er the lyre before 
 
 " Hath strung its plaining chords to mans worst woe /" 
 
 Surely no physical or mental suffering can he comparable to the 
 loss of reason; — therefore is it that the author thus designates it as 
 " man's worst woe." 
 
 In the most fearful of physical diseases, and amidst all the pangs 
 and privations incident to sudden accidents, — so long as the mind 
 retains its entire consciousness, — there will be a greater or less degree 
 of self-possession ; nor can the Author fail to add, that in proportion,
 
 200 WOTB8 TO • A.NTO I. 
 
 aa there is a Christian strength and singleness of heart, the bodily 
 Bufferings will prove to he, in no degree, comparahle to the prostration 
 of reason and of the sources of that chastened knowledge, which is 
 in truth, the handmaid of religion. 
 
 Note 3. Page 2 
 •• . ind he of Eden too — the Bard sublime /" 
 
 Had we not the example of the leviathan Johnson, it might seem 
 presumptuous to record an opinion derogatory to the fame of the 
 immortal Bard of Eden, — the repuhlican poet and secretary. With 
 this example, however, the minstrel of D** '"' hesitates not a 
 moment, in avowing bis inability to admire much that appertained to 
 the personal history and character of Milton. Hannah More, in one 
 of her recently published letters, speaks of Milton and Cowper as 
 the only poets who united a purely religious feeling with their poetry. 
 F( w really Christian poets, such as James Montgomery, were then so 
 much in the ascendant of our modern hemisphere, as, thanks be to 
 (we hope) an improving age, they now are; — else in the practical 
 influence of their respective works over the minds and hearts of 
 atU utiie readers, the author has no hesitation in expressing his de- 
 cided conviction, that the lays of such Poets as Cowper and Mont- 
 gomery, have done more in humanizing individual hearts, than 
 either Paradise Lost or Regained, or any minor production of 
 Milton's transcendant muM-. 
 
 Of some of this great Poet's theological and other views, — par- 
 ticularly with reference to marriage, — the author will not trust him- 
 self to say more than that he believes a young person would be 
 much more profitably employed in studying his Bible, than musing 
 over the Christian ethics of Cromwell's Latin Secretary! 
 
 The fame of Milton has so invested his personal identity with a 
 s.irt of unapproachable halo, that it needs the confidence; — or, if it so 
 please his blind admirers, the audacity, of Dr. Johnson himself, to 
 give utterance to a syllable in disparagement of him. 
 
 While, however, the author of these notes thus unreservedly avows 
 his dissent from some of Milton's opinions, every allusion to his 
 works as tiii. Poet of England, and of the first order of genius, suffi- 
 ciently conveys, he trusts, his conviction that, in this respect, Milton 
 stands deservedlv before all other names.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO I. 201 
 
 Oh ! for his glorious enlightenment, and exaltation of spirit, when, 
 in allusion to his visual privation, he thus sings :] — 
 
 " * * * From the cheerful ways of men 
 
 " Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair, 
 
 " Presented with an universal blank 
 
 " Of nature's works, to me expunged and rased, 
 
 " And wisdom, at one entrance quite shut out. 
 
 " So much the rather thou, celestial Light, 
 
 " Shine inward, and the mind thro' all her powers 
 
 " Irradiate; — there plant eyes, all mist from thence 
 
 " Purge, and disperse, that I may see and tell 
 
 " Of things invisible to mortal sight !" 
 
 Par. Lost, Bk. III. line 46. 
 
 Note 4. Page 3. 
 
 " That hath not flowed in tributary stream 
 
 To that Book-sea, by man' s proud gifts empearl'd." 
 
 It is hoped the reader will pardon so novel a compound of 
 expression as " Book-sea;" but nothing short of this would convey 
 the author's own idea of the actual state of the world of authorship ; — 
 that is, including compilations as well as originals. 
 
 No more interesting subject, in the whole range of England's vast 
 statistical details, could be found than a comparative statement of the 
 book-selling trade now, and what it was, fifty, or— even in the Author's 
 remembrance, — thirty years ago. But he fears, that, on the great 
 question, whether this interminable flow of intellectual streams to 
 satisfy the voracious cravings of our reading public, flows to the 
 right side or the wrong ; — to Christ or Belial, — there will be much 
 difference of opinion. 
 
 Note 5. Page 4. 
 
 " Madness such as Shakspeare drew J" 
 
 Nothing can exeeed the vivid and painful fidelity, as well as beauty, 
 of the Bard of Avon's maniac characters. — The Lears, Ophelias, &c. 
 — but it will at once be admitted, that they are entirely incidental.
 
 NOTES TO I Win I. 
 
 Note 6, 7, 8. Page I. 
 
 '• Havt Addison or Thomson ; — Gay or Young." 
 
 How few of the wits and poets of the seventeenth and eighteenth 
 cent uric-, were decidedly Christian in the aim and tenor of their 
 writings. — The elegant Addison, with all his acknowledged and 
 welcome influence on the public taste of his day, and with no mean 
 success in his efforts to refine the morals and habits of his readers; — 
 te also too of hi- Saturday's avowedly serious papers in the 
 Spectator, and of occasional allusions to Religion, — can, in no sense, 
 be said to be a decidedly Christian writer; such for example, as 
 was the eminently gifted and indefatigable Hannah More. Of the 
 luxuriant poet of the Seasons, — though with many fine passages of 
 religious feeling breathing through his pages, and with a concluding 
 hymn almost unrivalled in the language, — surely it cannot be said 
 that he aimed at being more than the first and ablest of Nature's 
 Minstrels; — or that his object went much beyond mere description, 
 however splendid or exquisite those descriptions are ? Of Gay, it 
 is painful to speak in other than terms of admiration, for the 
 "Fables" he has bequeathed us: but what will the reflecting Chris- 
 tian say to his "Beggars' Opera?" 
 
 Of Young, the Author would fain record his gratitude as well 
 as praise ; — and he doubts very much whether the muse of " dark- 
 le ss, and silence, solemn sisters-twain," is yet appreciated as 
 Night Thoughts deserve. — Whatever may be the charges 
 brought against the preferment -hunting Dr. Young, " The Solitaire" 
 has no hesitation in expressing his firm conviction that his great 
 work has done more for practical religion in the heart, by directing 
 and elevating our thoughts on the every-day themes of life, death, 
 immortality and friendship— than either of Milton's works. 
 
 Well may the Notisl say, gratitude, in reference to his own 
 obligations to the "Night Thoughts;" — which, next to Paley's 
 Natural Tli had more influence in fixing the standard of his 
 
 more serious views, than any other human production whatever- 
 And well does he remember, during his sojourn on the Island of 
 Heligoland, in the Summer of L809, sitting up nearly the whole of 
 one night, and reading two-thirds of those powerful and eloquent 
 "Thoughts'' without stirring from his seat. This was within a year or 
 two of his first perusal of Paley's admirable and conclusive work; — 
 which was in fact, to him, the providential instrument of converting
 
 NOTES TO CANTO I. 203 
 
 him from a state of mind bordering upon absolute atheism, and 
 which beset him from the age of sixteen to eighteen or nineteen. 
 
 Note 9. Page 5. 
 
 " E'en Cou-per pure, — the Bard whom all must please." 
 
 It is evident the sensibilities of this truly Christian Poet, were too 
 great, and his intercourse with the general world too limited, to give 
 him the requisite nerve for the effort the D******** muse has 
 attempted to achieve ; nor is it likely that his personal rank would 
 introduce him, in the private asylum which he did enter, to the 
 patients indiscriminately — as in the case of the present Author's more 
 humble origin. 
 
 Note 10, 11. Page 5. 
 
 " Of later Bards, the Byrons and the Scotts." 
 
 The Author has already ventured a few free remarks on the first 
 of these favourite poets of modern days, and for the free spirit of his 
 estimate of the real standing of Lord Byron, — not in man's but in 
 God's sight, — brought upon himself some tremendous anathemas from 
 the minor critics, who were pleased to designate said remarks as 
 " audacious ;" — and to commend the author's attention to the 
 Saviour's injunction of " Judge not, that ye be not judged." It is 
 not in a vain defiance of reviewers such as these, that the Author 
 once more repeats his perfect indifference towards the great mass of 
 them; and will merely on his part recommend that sapient critic to 
 study his Bible a little more closely, before he ventures, in so puerile a 
 way, to utter passages about as applicable as the twenty-third of 
 Matthew to himself; and over which the latter Author would, w T ith 
 all Christian frankness, advise him deeply to ponder. 
 
 The writer of these notes has not a moment's hesitation in sub- 
 scribing, without a single exception, to the remarks contained in 
 the notes to his former little work ; and it is with no small pain, 
 that he is now, from a sense of duty, compelled to include the greater 
 portion of Sir Walter Scott's works, as amongst those that were neither 
 penned in the fear of God, nor designed to work his glory; however 
 much He may, in His inscrutable wisdom, over-rule, for a certain faint 
 species of good, the overwhelming mass of publications, of which, in
 
 204 NOTES TO CA tfTO l 
 
 Sir Walter's works, and as the inciter of imitative pens, the Author 
 of Waverly baa been the parent. 
 
 Thifl i- not the place to inter into the discussion whether novel 
 reading be a blessing or an evil. Hut, although unhesitatingly taking 
 the latter as his estimate of such productions, the Author will content 
 himself with saying, that, he is quite alive to the negative merit 
 which myriads of good sort of people, professing to be Christians, 
 attach tothe labours of Scott, — particularly those founded on, or allied 
 to, history; — viz, that he has done far more than any preceding 
 writer, to refine and improve the taste for works of fiction ; and 
 therein must be considered as a great benefactor to the national lite- 
 rature of Britain. 
 
 This, however, does not deter the Author from expressing his 
 opinion, from personal experience, of the evil which attaches to all 
 reading of this description. Twenty years ago, some of the works of 
 Fielding, Richardson. Smollett, La Sage and others were familiar to 
 him. Hut what sentiment arises on the retrospect ? — Why, solemnly 
 and truly this — thankfulness to God, that the hand of death had 
 not seized him during this state of indifference to subjects of 
 infinitely higher moment ; — the safety of his own soul, and the in- 
 fluence of his example on younger and less experienced minds. 
 Here the Author would seriously put it to his Christian readers, — 
 and of the younger class especially, — to determine for themselves 
 whether the perusal of the Waverly novels, rather than Tom Jones, 
 or Pamela, has, in the slightest degree, contributed to render the 
 Bible, — in such hours as they are pleased, for conscience sake, to de- 
 vote to its sacred truths, more welcome to their hearts and their tastes. 
 It is not as a novice in the world's school, that the Author expresses 
 his total disbelief of any such assertion, by whomsoever made. 
 
 If any evidence be wanted of the danger of such popular 
 writings, surely that evidence is demonstrable in the fact that 
 countless persons have deemed this man, Sir Walter Scott, to be 
 so deservedly tin idol of popular and enthusiastic admiration, as 
 to subscribe some fifty or sixty thousand pounds to purchase Abbots- 
 ford ; — and thousands more to erect a monument to his memory. 
 What, alas ! does all this fever of exciting love of man and his 
 deeds, witness to the more sober and thinking Christian? Unques- 
 tionably this, that they are all clean gone out of the narrow into 
 the broad way, "that Leadetb to" &c. : — let them find the context 
 in the words of Him, who, unlike the foxes with their holes, or the 
 birds with their nests, " bad not where to lav his head."
 
 NOTES TO CANTO I. 205 
 
 The Author repeats, that it is no light — nay, he admits it to be 
 a very painful task thus, oracularly as it were, to denounce by 
 wholesale, the favourite pursuits of the myriads who, at this moment, 
 may be indulging their leisure over the pages of that extraordinarily 
 gifted man ; — but experience and truth will not permit him to 
 withhold the honest expression of his feelings on the subject. 
 
 Note 12. Page 5. 
 To " Death"— a Porleous— 
 
 How delightful is it to a thoughtful mind to turn from the contem- 
 plation of a character such as Sir Walter Scott's, still blazing forth 
 with its halo of unsanctified applause — to the mild, the exalted, 
 though comparatively obscure fame of Dr. Porteous ; — whose station 
 and actual usefulness as an individual, as much surpass those of 
 the Author of " Waverly," or " the Lay of the Last Minstrel," as the 
 unutterably cheerful and pious deportment of the Bishop at the hour 
 of death, did the impatient restlessness of the man who needed, — if 
 public report say true, — the stimulus of a novel to soothe the fretful- 
 ness of his latter days. 
 
 Let Lockhart's Life of Sir Walter determine, — however guardedly 
 compiled; — let many a letter therein published declare, as com- 
 pared with the Bishop's in his own Life, and especially in the 
 recent publication of Hannah More's Correspondence, which of 
 these two men stood highest in right estimation. 
 
 Note 13. Page 8. 
 
 " For Bloomfield holds his yet unbroken spell. 1 " 
 
 In some recent extracts from the letters of a man of decided 
 talent, the Author observed a very disparaging remark or two on the 
 standing of Bloomfield as a poet; and however popular he may still 
 continue, amongst a certain class of readers, the Author is very much 
 disposed to unite in the belief, that the " Farmer's Boy" has been 
 somewhat over-rated.
 
 206 NOTES TO C INTO 1. 
 
 Vmi 14. Page 9. 
 M ■' '//"'/ of Chatterton ?— HI fail d bard ."' 
 
 The interest excited by this extraordinary, bnt mournful son of 
 genius, in the fabrication of the Radcliffe manuscripts, appears, for a 
 time, to have been almost as great as that between the Ossianites and 
 BCacFhersonites. And in truth it must have required much greater 
 talents to produce, with gar!) and thought suited to a by -gone age, 
 a series of poetic compositions such as the seemingly antiqua 
 contents of the oaken chest at Bristol, than would have been 
 necessary, supposing them genuine, for their first production. 
 
 Uut what folly, what consummate absurdity, to seek in this way to 
 catch the notice of the prurient but heartless public! — and wh< 
 alas! did it end? The unfortunate youth, conscious of the powers 
 which God had bestowed upon him, but wanting in that due regu- 
 lation of his ambitious thoughts, and insatiate desires for merely 
 human fame, became disgusted with neglect; and finally, stung to 
 desperation by self-conceit and absolute want, terminated an unhappy 
 life, by an awful death ; leaving in his wayward career and pride- 
 sought suicide, a fearful lesson to future .aspirants for public favour. 
 
 Notf. 15. 
 " Alt .' reckl u Burns." 
 
 Il'.v. few, alas! of the noblest class of minds in Britain's long 
 catalogue of Poets, are those on whom, like Young or Cowper, the 
 reader can look with unmingled pleasure. How much of the conflic- 
 ting combinations of sin and self, with transcendent endowment 
 to be found in the history of by far the greater majority of those 
 who hold distinguished niches in the temple of fame. If of any 
 one more than another this remark be true, it is BO of the author 
 of" The Cotter's Saturday Night," and of many of the letters con- 
 tained in his life. 
 
 More exquisite purity of sentiment, exalted feeling, and right 
 nobleness and independence of mind, arc to be found in what is left 
 us of Burns, than in one half of the flattering sycophancies of Queen 
 Anne's days of wit and wealth. But the Author of these desultory
 
 NOTES TO CANTO I. 207 
 
 notes, will only stay to express his entire sympathy with that 
 prominent trait in the Scotch Bard's character — independence of the 
 great. — Oh yes ! in the language of truth and earnestness, the Quaker 
 muse of D******** could implore the annihilation of his faculties, 
 rather than prostrate them to the flattering and belying of the rich 
 and the noble of the land, — too often worthless in reality, as conspi- 
 cuous in rank and station. Burns, with his high-minded feelings 
 of superiority over the paltry distinctions of mere purse and condition, 
 spoke with unmeasured contempt of those weak and pompous souls 
 who deemed their titles of Dukes, Lords, or Baronets, to be a 
 passport to every enjoyment that earth can bestow; and amongst 
 them, that of claiming, out of feigned condescension, the presence 
 at their mob conversazioni, of the newest literary "lion" of 
 the day — and the Bard of " Tam O'Shanter" among the rest. It 
 is not in the act itself, that the Author finds much to blame ; — but in 
 the accompanying assumption that a man of genius being thus, for 
 example, invited to the soiree of some great lord or lady, must 
 sink his pretensions to intellectual superiority, and hold himself 
 ready to exhibit his colloquial as well as poetic powers, with the same 
 avowed intent as the fire-eater, or Belzoni's feats of strength, viz. 
 the amusement of the company assembled. Let such a man as Burns, 
 or any other equally independent spirit, enter a large party of this 
 description, and feel himself, by the real kindness and friendly 
 demeanour of his noble host or hostess, entirely disembarrassed, and 
 the Author would then admit that he is placed in circumstances 
 peculiarly favourable for the development of his talents, and useful- 
 ness in society. 
 
 In the right dignity which mind ought ever to hold, in relation to 
 all the adventitious circumstances of either personal attraction, 
 rank, or mere fortune, Burns was a poet of nature's noblest quality ; — 
 and could uncompromisingly avow his contempt for the pretensions 
 of the world's most exalted minions — i. e. exalted merely in the 
 sense of high station or great wealth. 
 
 But alas! alas! the moralizing " Solitaire" cannot suffer this note 
 in commendation of Burns's nobler traits of character, to pass 
 without reminding his reader of the lamentable truth, that mental 
 gifts, however superior, will do nothing for the poor sinning pos- 
 sessor, unless a higher principle — the principle of divine grace, 
 — reign supreme over all his faculties and affections. 
 
 With what pain must the mournful death of Burns be contem- 
 plated by a Christian reader !
 
 •jds NOTES TO I \ WTO I. 
 
 Note 16. Page 1 1. 
 •• ) ■ .. Laureate Bard/ — to memory's sight most dear." 
 
 Tin- reader will pardon the few lines of tributary esteem to one of 
 
 the most amiable as well as accomplished characters of the present 
 day, — the truly Christian Bard of Keswick. And much does the 
 Author lament that in the midst of a still hrilliant and sedulous career 
 of literary labour, the mysterious hand of Providence has seen fit to 
 intercept, for a time, — would that he might dare to hope for a brief 
 time only! — the mental capabilities of his much loved friend. 
 
 The Author may fairly rejoice, that, with the splendid but dark 
 productions of Lord Byron's muse, in the form of Harolds, Giaours, 
 Laras, Conrads, and Don Joans, &c, — still perpetually pouring in 
 fresh Btreams from the press of Albemarle Street, — a Bard of acknow- 
 ledged excellence and moral purity, has at length commenced so 
 desirable a t :i-k as that of presenting a new and complete edition 
 of his own Poems. Beginning with " Joan of Arc," of which, in a 
 Letter to the Author, he beautifully though plaintively remarks : — " I 
 have corrected it with no common care, and though many juvenile 
 faults unavoidably remain, I have left nothing, which, upon any 
 higher consideration than of taste, I can now in my sad and sober 
 moments disapprove." 
 
 Note 17. Page II. 
 
 " Nor Wordsworth) />>/re as gold." 
 
 How greatly is the pleasure of a tour among the lovely and 
 romantic scenery of Cumberland enhanced by the privilege of soci.il 
 intercourse with the master spirits that inhabit that delightful region 
 of peace and seclusion. Such happiness the "Solitaire" was per- 
 mitted to enjoy during a transient visitof a few days to the neighbour- 
 hood of Keswick, in the summer of 1835 : when, amongst other short 
 excursions, the Author took a memorable and intensely interesting 
 one with Southey himself, along Keswick water, to the left towards 
 one of the hidden small lakes or tarns seldom visited by strangers ; — 
 and then, crossing the hills, descended into Borradale and returned 
 through the gorge. The Author had, the same journey, a practised 
 poney, and after enjoying, at a distance of 16 miles, a lake breakfast 
 
 with his excellent friend the Late Rev. L .accompanied him 
 
 in a ramble over the hills behind Ambleside, and sweeping round its
 
 NOTES TO CANTO L 209 
 
 summit towards Langdale, came over its highest point towards Rydal ; 
 called and dined with Wordsworth, and had just glance enough both 
 of his lovely retreat — and of his own pure, enlightened, and patriotic 
 mind, to form a satisfactory estimate of the taste and virtues of the 
 man ; and to prove the entire harmony of the picture presented by 
 the Poet in his works, and the individual in his every-day life. 
 
 Note 18. Page 12. 
 
 "Montgomery, thee— with harp not least divine." 
 
 Well does it become the Christian and discursive character, to 
 dwell for one moment, — not only on the surpassing beauty of every 
 thing that proceeds from the " Iris" Bard, — but on the pure and 
 lofty feeling of devotion which invariably breathes through the 
 whole of his poetry. The Author, some two or three and twenty 
 years ago, had the pleasure of accompanying a few friends with 
 whom Montgomery was acquainted, to spend the afternoon at his 
 domicile ; and the scene and animated flow of rich converse, sustained 
 principally by the Poet himself, is as vividly present to the memory 
 as though it were but an incident of yesterday. 
 
 Note 19. Page 12. 
 
 " / ween, dear Barton." 
 
 The diarist is not without some qualms of delicacy in alluding to 
 a brother in church-fellowship, and speaking favourably of the im- 
 proving intellectual character of the Society to which he belongs. 
 He ventures, however, to claim the right of exercising an unbiassed 
 judgment on the state of the world around him ; and hopes, that 
 without undue partiality for his own, or prejudice against any other 
 class of the community, he may be permitted to record his increas- 
 ing attachment to the principles of that Society, and belief also of 
 its advancing status in intellectual and scientific attainments. 
 
 Note 20. Page 14. 
 
 " And richer Akenside." 
 
 This Poet seems to be quite gone out of date ; — as much so, as 
 Dr. Donne and even the later Bards of Queen Anne : — for who now 
 talks of Dryden, Pope, or the poets of that day? The fresh 
 
 P
 
 210 NOTES TO ('ANTo I. 
 
 and more welcome tide <>f the Scotts, Byrons, M -es, BheUys, Keats, 
 
 L. E. L/s, Hunts, &c. &c, Beems to keep back the -till and deeper 
 water- id' the preceding age. In the interval appeared Akenside's 
 splendid and philosophic Poem "the Pleasures of the I m a ginati on," 
 
 and yet no one imu thinks of finding pleasure there, save those 
 
 only who know the rich contents both of the subject and the poem. 
 
 Note 21. Page 14. 
 
 •• Oru half the lays of minstrelsy's false birth 
 Could, by a Tight or Akenside displaced, 
 
 /,', ili i in '' 
 
 Well may the Author associate the accomplished Authoress of 
 " Psyche" with the neglected Mark Akenside. How few of the age 
 of twenty-rive in the presenl day have seen, even if they have heard 
 of, Mrs. Tighe's exquisite Poem. At once chastely philosophic in 
 
 argument, and richly clad in all the endowments of poetic eloquence. 
 
 Note 22. Page 15. 
 "A Beattie— Blair." 
 
 The reader will perhaps pardon a little egotism now and then. — 
 The Author feels impelled to say, that after having accomplished the 
 versifying part of hi- labours in the poem of "Madness," he finds 
 an indescribable pleasure in relieving his mind in this way, of many 
 a vagrant thought and memoried incident. It is with an especial 
 feeling of delight that he recalls his early fondness for Beattie's 
 " Minstrel;"- one of the most beautiful and richly sentimental 
 poem- in the language. But it may seem less surprising that a 
 certain degree of innate attachment should grow up with the 
 Author's growth, inasmuch as his father even, before the D******** 
 Hani had pa--ed hi- teens, was fond of quoting the Minstrel in 
 reference to his son; — and in actually giving him the same name, 
 the Author is very much inclined to ascribe it to his parent's admira- 
 tion of the Scottish Muse.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO I. 211 
 
 Certainly, in a deep and enthusiastic attachment to the beauties 
 of natural scenery, and in his love of seclusion, " The Solitaire " 
 claims an especial congeniality with the mind and temperament 
 of his namesake the ' Minstrel.' 
 
 In one sense — his father's occasional quotation of the line — 
 
 " And yet our Edwin was no vulgar boy," 
 
 was entirely correct, his whole life through. — The Author, now at 
 an age beyond fifty, feels this most sensibly to have been the case. 
 He is conscious that, in his whole nature, — in the structure of his 
 mind, intense susceptibility of his feelings and passionate love of 
 solitude, — there is quite enough to have marked him out from earliest 
 childhood as no common or " vulgar boy." Is this what may, with 
 any fairness, be termed self-praise ? The Author ventures to think 
 not; — inasmuch as his father, — a man of no ordinary mind, and for 
 many years a friend and correspondent of the late excellent Bishop of 
 Durham, Shute Barrington, as well as many other of the enlightened 
 spirits of his day, — did not scruple thus to designate his youngest 
 son. 
 
 Note 23. Page 15. 
 
 " For what weak recourse 
 Can struggling reason have to scenes above, 
 Since she, unseated, must in self's dark trammels move ?" 
 
 It is this melancholy and most affecting fact with regard to the 
 self-immured state of a maniac's mind, that has often and often 
 attracted the attention of the Author, when in the quoit-ground, 
 cricket-field, or a country ramble, he has looked upon the coun- 
 tenances, and watched the conduct and thoughts of his fellow- 
 patients. All, all marks the lamentably debased state of the 
 spiritual man : — nothing but what, in some way or other, affects the 
 body, i. e. the " self" of the man, seems to have the slightest hold 
 upon either affection or aversion. Many a time has he contemplated 
 the solitary figure of an insane person, walking around the field, 
 absorbed apparently in his own deep meditative musings, — and on 
 touching but with a single word, any one chord of his self-bound 
 soul, alas ! you find it all " of the earth, earthy !'* 
 
 p 2
 
 212 NOTES TO CANTO I. 
 
 N.mi 24. Page 16. 
 
 " '7V.v God himself thai saith 
 On him that sirmeth — rich or poor — descends my in-nth." 
 
 The reader will probably gather enough of the Author's general 
 view- of the subject from the preceding note, to be prepared for the 
 expression of the further distinct and decided opinion, thai to sin, — 
 either direct in the individual sufferer himself, or indirect by inherit- 
 ance from parents predisposed to disease and insanity, — all sum-ring, 
 botli mental and bodily is to be attributed. This is neither a fitting 
 occasion nor place for a deliberate argument on the subject; but the 
 Author, with the Bible in one hand, and the pen in the other, would 
 not hesitate to maintain 1 1 i — position against any one who deems the 
 opinion to be hastily formed. Having, however, said thus much, he 
 feels it right further to say, that till the grace of God change the 
 heart of the patient, male or female, he has no sort of dependence 
 upon any mere human means, — either as to the body's health, or the 
 mind's sanity, — beyond the ordinary and, he admits, not unimportant. 
 ones, of seclusion and employment. 
 
 Note 25. Page 17. 
 
 ■• Say wilt thou, then, go;/ trifler, heedless go 
 
 And (law that tliott no part in grief .shall hike?" 
 
 Can any one take up a newspaper, and see occasionally a police 
 report, with the extolled and high sounding names of the Marquis 
 
 of , or the young Lord , attached to some night charge 
 
 of wrenching off knockers, or attacking watchmen, &c. and follow 
 these miscalled noble miscreants to their paternal mansions, sur- 
 rounded by all the luxuries and appurtenances which rank and 
 gold can oiler, — reposing on their downy beds of indolence and 
 greedy self-indulgence; — can any one so watching one of these 
 "gay triflers" of the haui ton, hesitate to admit that the minstrel 
 i- perfectly borne out in the strong allusions he has made to their 
 reckless and heartless indifference to the happiness and sufferings 
 of others; and that, in conduct at least, they shew to the world 
 their sinful confidence that, to them, the swelling flow of insanity's 
 ti Le i> not doomed to reach ; or they would not thus set at defiance 
 all feeling of respect for the rights and enjoyments of others.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO I. 213 
 
 Oh, ye ill-fated sons of titled insolence and profligacy! Would 
 that the laws were more impartially exercised towards you ; and 
 then most sure is the Author, that no blackguard with silk stockings 
 on his legs, and mischief in his conduct, would escape the tread 
 mill ; — spite of the elegant card-case which conveys the secret of his 
 birth as a " Marquis," or one of the " honourables " of the land ! 
 The Writer is perfectly astounded to see instance after instance 
 of these nocturnal pranks, passed off with simply extorting the real 
 names of the parties, and then levying some petty pecuniary fine. 
 Nothing, were he on the bench, short of either the stocks or the 
 treadmill, would satisfy his conscience as the righteous punishment 
 of these insolent and ruffian coxcombs, parading the streets, and in 
 their drunken frolics, spoiling the property and disturbing the peace 
 of industrious citizens ! 
 
 Note 26. Page 18 
 
 D" 
 
 " Oh! could the bard with Michael's trump but sound 
 
 Through London's halls — and ah! through London's ' hells.' " 
 
 . It requires no extraordinary spirit of divination to say that God's 
 permanent blessing will never rest on this country, — even though the 
 acts of our youthful monarch's reign shall be all directed by that 
 due sense of Christian purpose in their origin and final adoption, 
 which so especially becomes the pure, exalted, and pious education 
 she has received, — till these dens of iniquity are utterly despoiled — 
 their banks and buildings confiscated, and the reckless frequenters 
 consigned to their rightful destiny — transportation or the Peni- 
 tentiary. No doubt, this sweeping and predictive language will 
 cause strange grimaces and distortions of face ; contemptuous cough- 
 ings and laughings, amongst the high-bred sons of gambling; 
 — but the Author would merely retort in two words — in looking 
 forward to the days spoken of at large in his Seventh Canto — " nous 
 verrons."- — Does the poor sinner say, who shall see? Those, the 
 Bard replies, who, taking the Bible for their standard of life, and 
 the Grace of God for the power, by which alone that standard can 
 in any degree be attained, shall, in the latter days, witness the final 
 overthrow of these palace-girt resorts of Satanic avarice. 
 
 Alas ! how appropriate is the designation of these caves of
 
 I'M NOTES TO GA WTO r. 
 
 "unclean birds and all abominable things"- -" I It-I I !"- -the Devil 
 shews himself to be a consummate master of language in this matteT : 
 ih\ it, since Eve ate the forbidden fruit, or Cain slew his brother, was 
 an expression more fitly used to convey its right meaning! 
 
 Note 27. Page IH. 
 
 ■• An anodyne, such as the Papist culls 
 From '•ni his Here of Rom* 's gold-purchased prayers.'* 
 
 It is with some degree of reluctance, that the Author permits (his 
 reflection upon the Church of his Roman Catholic brethren to 
 remain ; but under the conviction that were the pure spirits of 
 Pascal, or Fenelon, or A.'Kempis, to revisit the earth, they would, as 
 heartily as himself, condemn the prostitution of Church power to 
 venal purposes, he is content that the line should stand just as it 
 was originally struck off. 
 
 Note 28. Page 20. 
 
 •• Harp of (he Isle! attune to Jesu's day." 
 
 There are assuredly many extraordinary indications that the 
 world is undergoing great and marvellous changes. The almost 
 ^credible distribution of the Sacred Writings throughout every land, 
 And in almost every language of the habitable globe; — the rapid 
 growth of knowledge, — not only in England, but in Prussia, Bavaria, 
 Greece, an ' other parts of Europe, as well as in Egypt, Turkey, and 
 elsewhere; the improvements in every department of science and 
 art; — the daily extension of railroads, and steamboats; — all seem 
 to demonstrate that, in another generation or two, the world will 
 exhibit of things even more wonderful than that which the 
 
 last thirty or forty years has exhibited. Whether this be indeed 
 " the dawn of Jesu's day," — the dim twilight of the prophetic ages, — 
 Omniscience alone can say ; but the Author is certainly inclined to 
 side with those that think we are on the eve of ^nat and unlooked-for 
 changes : whether for good or for evil, (speaking with man's short- 
 hted views, — fur all will ultimately he well)— the future only 
 can detenu i
 
 NOTES TO CANTO II. 
 
 Note 29. Page 23. 
 
 " And if, as much we fear, the coming age 
 Shall teem with woes beyond all former pains." 
 
 To the easy, amiable, and even religiously disposed majority of the 
 professing world, the autnor is prepared to believe that his senti- 
 ments on some deeply interesting and important subjects, would 
 appear greatly at variance with those of others. 
 
 To the many estimable persons, who, being tolerably good them- 
 selves, and living in circles guarded by all the privileges of tbe 
 domestic altar ; — where the peaceful hearth resounds with the morn- 
 ing and evening family prayer; — and where the subjects of read- 
 ing, intercourse in life, and contemplation of Bible and missionary 
 exertions, lead to the notion that England, more especially, is rapidly 
 advancing to the millennial age of peace and purity ; — to this large 
 and valuable class, the author fears, indeed, that his own views on 
 these subjects will be unwelcome; — and that it will possibly, at once, 
 sweep from the perusal of his poem a numerous and influential 
 body of readers. It may be so ; — and the author deems it wise to 
 prepare his mind for so probable a result, when the nature of his 
 opinions, either through reviews or otherwise, becomes sufficiently 
 known. 
 
 But the reader, on his part, is entreated to consider, that he 
 who takes up the Bible with a sincere and prayerful earnestness to 
 obtain a perfect knowledge of God's will ; — and which will, we con-
 
 2 lti NOTES TO CANTO II. 
 
 tinually pray, '• may be done on Earth Bfi it is done in Heaven,'" — 
 will assuredly find many things hard to be understood by die 
 natural man, and greatly at variance with the pleasing anticipations 
 ime "I" these amiable but visionary religionists. 
 
 The author will, most probably, return to this intensely interesting 
 subject in bis notes on the Seventh Canto, in which he has drawn 
 liberally fmin the prophetic books of Scripture; and in which he 
 trusts easily to show, to those who accept those sacred writings as the 
 undoubted voice of inspiration and revelation from God himself, 
 that there must necessarily be a transition much more eventful 
 and awful than the world has yet known, ere mankind can be re- 
 leased from the artificial state in which the world and its affairs are 
 now conducted ; and be fitted for the paradisaic bliss which it is 
 foretold shall accompany the reign of the Messiah. 
 
 \\ hen the author sees, in the current history of his own 
 favoured country, a more decided evidence that the rulers of the 
 earth are in earnest in their desires, — not only to ameliorate the 
 temporal, — but to advance the spiritual condition of the countless 
 myriads over whose destiny Providence permits them, as mi- 
 nisters and counsellors of their young and royal mistress, to hold 
 entire control ; — when the author sees unequivocal evidences of 
 this kind, he will have greater confidence in the hope that the 
 divine blessing may yet be more wonderfully manifested than has 
 hitherto been the case. 
 
 So long as prime ministers and their colleagues are indifferent 
 to the moral and religious welfare of their country ; — so long as no 
 effort is made to stretch forth the hand of legal power, and to stay by 
 tnatj is the abhorrent curses of the slave-trade and slavery in the 
 earth ; and at home, the gambling-houses, — gin palaces, — Sunday 
 concerts — state-dinners and travelling, &c, — the mourning " Soli- 
 taire" has a growing and unalterable conviction that some tremendous 
 calamity — some awful visitation of the Divine anger, — as certainly 
 awaits England as it did Jerusalem of old ! 
 
 One word more in the present note on the shamelessbreaches of the 
 Sabbath. The author, in a subsequent page of his text, has alluded 
 to Railroads, and to the power of Directors to prevent this sad 
 evil of Sabbath travelling. Of the practicability and even policy of 
 this, on the ground of pecuniary consideration, an influential member 
 of the London and Birmingham Direction, published, a year or two 
 ago, a most admirable and conclusne pamphlet, demonstrating, — so 
 far as fair and legitimate reasoning on Christian grounds could
 
 NOTES TO CANTO II. 217 
 
 do, — not only the gross violation of the Sabbath every way, in per- 
 mitting the trains to run at all, but also, that the returns in the 
 end would be improved by it. Oh ! that this enlightened but now 
 lamented friend of humanity — a member also of one of the most dis- 
 tinguished families among the philanthropists of the middle classes 
 of this country — had succeeded in effecting his object on this im- 
 portant question when it came to the vote at their own board ! 
 
 Nor can the author forbear here adverting to the zealous exertions 
 on this subject of the more extensively known brother (Joseph 
 Sturge) of his deceased friend, also a Director of the same board ; 
 — and who, failing in his Christian efforts to carry the question, 
 instantly resigned his seat. 
 
 Note 30. Page 25. 
 
 " For ah, too true ! amid the gathering scope 
 Of mental ills, our gentler sisters grope 
 
 Their darkening way in throngs most numerous." 
 
 The author believes that the opinion here expressed, as to the 
 greater number of cases of insanity being on the female side, will be 
 borne out by a reference to the average returns of many establish- 
 ments, both public and private, throughout the country. Were he dis- 
 posed to hazard a sentiment as to the cause of this predominance, he 
 would certainly venture to ascribe it, in the majority of cases, 
 to the greater susceptibility of the one sex over the other ; — and 
 be it always remembered that insanity, under almost every possible 
 form, shows itself more in the feelings and affections, than in the 
 reasoning faculty. For both men and women are often shrewd and 
 close reasoners, when at the same time, the feelings either of love, 
 hatred, revenge — pride, vanity or lust — are fearfully and unnaturally 
 excitable. 
 
 Note 31. Page 25. 
 
 " Then first, oh thou, by fortune kindly blest, 
 
 And led, in sympathetic love for these, 
 The outcasts of the social world, t' invest 
 
 Thy cankering gold in schemes that God may please." 
 
 How many are there, who, after a prosperous career in business or 
 professional life, retire at the age of sixty— often at fifty— with 
 an average period of fifteen or twenty years of comparative idleness 
 before them -.—for the man who thinks his work to be done, his part
 
 •j | S NOTES TO CANTO II. 
 
 fully acted, and therefore entitled to spend the remainder of his 
 davs in Utopian visions of peaceful Beclusion, is. if his views real 
 there, to all intents and purposes, an Idle man. 
 
 He may be liberal in his expenditure, kind to the poor, and a con- 
 rersible neighbour; hut the author holds these as insufficient to 
 satisfy the strict sense which a Christian ought to possess of his 
 duty towards BOciety under circumstances of fortune and leisure. 
 There are inanv w ays in which the habits of business, knowledge of 
 mankind, and abundance of wealth may, wnth excellent-effect, be 
 hrought into public, though not ostentatious, usefulness. Such an 
 individual might at once enlist himself as the patron and active sup- 
 porter of Bible, missionary or charitable institutions in the neigh- 
 bourhood ; — in which, however plenteous the harvest of individual 
 good to be reaped, the labourers are comparatively few. 
 
 Amongst the causes of humanity in which the retired merchant 
 or tradesman might, in some instances, safely enlist his fortune 
 and experience, is that to which allusion is made in the text. In 
 the conduct of an asylum, the office and duties of the superior are 
 simply those of oversight : — having been, in the first instance, careful 
 in the selection of properly qualified attendants, and in the appoint- 
 ment of experienced medical practitioners for stated attendance upon 
 his patients. The actual labour of the proprietor himself is reduced 
 very much to the daily inspection of the patients, and the general 
 economy of the institution. The author is well aware, that what he 
 suggests, implies that the individual so embarking in a scheme of 
 painful responsibility like this, must possess certain qualifications 
 in his personal character which do not appertain to all. A firmness 
 and decision of purpose, blended with kindness of manner, and a 
 real untiring sympathy for those entrusted to his care, are absolutely 
 indispensable. Without the first, his treatment of the wayward 
 entreaties of his patients would engender more mischief than by 
 anv kindness could be restored; — and on the other hand, if that 
 decisive course be not accompanied with gentleness and urbanity 
 of deportment, an excited patient soon takes umbrage at the slight- 
 est supposed offence ; and a paroxysm of rage might assail hi- peace 
 for a whole day, merely from the use of some hasty or untoward 
 expression. In addition to these, an extensive acquaintance with 
 human nature from long intercourse in the world, is not only 
 important, but, generally speaking, is one of the advantages 
 that a retired man of business possesses, over the mere inheritor of 
 u ■ alth.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO II. 219 
 
 Note 32. Page 26. 
 " Attendants on thy will." 
 
 Of all subjects connected with the proper treatment of insanity, 
 the importance of securing suitable attendants for the patients, has 
 most deeply impressed the author's mind. Too many, he fears, who, 
 for mere lucre's sake, open establishments of this description, are con- 
 tent with the presence of mere physical force ; — that is, of active 
 healthy persons, of strength equal to any emergency which may be- 
 fall them from an excited or fitful patient. 
 
 So long since as 1820, the author's attention was especially drawn 
 towards this point, and he regrets that he cannot even now 
 change, in one iota, the opinion he then formed, with regard to the 
 class of persons usually engaged, in public as well as private asy- 
 lums, to sustain the multifarious duties of attendants. 
 
 It would seem almost to have escaped the notice of those who 
 have the superintendence or conducting of these establishments, 
 that it is not a question of bodily strength only, however indis- 
 pensable this may be ; but that till more attention is paid to 
 their eligibility as companions, as well as attendants, these institu- 
 tions will never be conducted as they ought to be. For although 
 it may happen that in fifty, or even a hundred cases, there may 
 not be above eight or ten sufficiently convalescent to occupy their 
 minds with subjects congenial to their former pursuits ; — yet if 
 there be but one single individual of a superior and intelligent 
 mind, it becomes a paramount duty, that the person with whom 
 he or she is brought most frequently into contact, — as of course, 
 will be the case with the attendant, — should possess a mind equal 
 to any subject which may interest or engage the attention of 
 the patient. 
 
 Nothing is more calculated to disgust and increase the excite- 
 ment of a convalescent and sensitive mind, than to be subject to 
 the low, and necessarily ignorant, talk of even the most civil, and for 
 their station in life, the best informed of the class almost invariably 
 chosen to perform the important duties of attendance and com- 
 panionship. But here, reader, is at once a solution of the whole 
 matter. It is perfectly obvious that, till this view of the subject 
 has sufficiently impressed the minds of proprietors and conductors 
 of these establishments with a sense of its importance, to induce 
 them to engage and to remunerate accordingly, a properly qualified
 
 220 WOTBS TO CANTO II 
 
 and educated attendant, do competent person would consent to im- 
 mure himself within the w alls of an asylum, and submit t < > the pain 
 ful but accessary duty of being almost constantly presenl with the 
 patients. Till then lore, as to a Bchool tutor, a salary of at least from 
 fifty to one hundred, instead of fifteen or twenty pounds, be offered 
 to sueh an individual, things must continue to be grossly mis- 
 managed ; and a susceptible, — or if it please the medical folks so to 
 designate him, — an excitable patient, must still struggle through 
 his probation of confinement, unsolaced by the presence and mental 
 help of a spirit of his own grade of education and feeling. 
 
 Of the importance of what the author has now suggested, his mind 
 is increasingly convinced; — and although unwilling to dwell much 
 upon his own sufferings, he could a tale unfold of the horrors of 
 being subject to the reckless, rude, and barbarous ignorance of at- 
 tendant-, that would make his readers shudder. But he is willing to 
 je the scene, in the hope that his present volume will, in this and 
 possibly in some other respects, attract more of the public attention 
 and sympathy towards this increasingly numerous class of suffering 
 humanity than has yet been manifested. 
 
 In mere idiocy or violent madness;— or where the patient is an 
 uninformed person, all that can be wanted is regularity in the per- 
 formance of an attendant's duties: — punctuality, cleanliness, and 
 cheerfulness, are then the main requisites. 
 
 Note 33. Page 27. 
 
 " ■ would in mercy throw 
 
 The gentlt U vi H." 
 
 In addition to the remarks of the preceding note, the author feels 
 that hi- mind is not relieved without further expressing his unalter- 
 able conviction, that till the character of attendants can be univer- 
 sally Bpoken of as a class of really pious devoted Christians, as 
 well as mere civil servants, no asylum can be what it ought to 
 be. This remark the author adds, under a feeling of uncompro- 
 mising fidelity to that Jesus who has mercifully aided him in strug- 
 gling through the fearful probation to which a threefold confine- 
 ment has subjected him; — and that, not on the ground of being 
 either a maniac or an imbecile, but an excited patient ; or in other 
 words, the victim of too great a degree of mental sensibility.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO II. 221 
 
 Note 34. Page 27. 
 
 " For though not to physician's art, the fires 
 Of madness yield their force." 
 
 Oh ! ye erring physicians and philosophers, who think by cup- 
 ping and cathartics to dispossess the poor demented minds under your 
 charge, of the mysterious inmate which has disturbed the current of 
 their feelings, and deranged the powers of the intellect ! would 
 that your folly may not some day descend upon your own pates — ■ 
 upon your too frequent ignorance of your patient ! 
 
 On the question of bodily health — of the paramount importance 
 of preserving, as far as may be, the due performance of the ordinary 
 functions of mere animal life, no one could be more strenuous in his 
 advocacy of proper medical attendance, than the author. But beyond 
 this, keep your physical nostrums to yourselves. The reader may 
 readily imagine that these strong expressions arise from the author's 
 having often been subject to these absurdities, when he was in the 
 best possible health ; when his activity and power of exertion were 
 in full play, and the functions of the body perfectly regular. Such, 
 he laments to say, has been the case ; — and if he had not some few 
 sparks of friendly feeling towards the otherwise intelligent medical 
 men who had thus treated him, he would unhesitatingly narrate the 
 details of their absurd proceedings, and idle, or rather evil, results 
 of increasing instead of diminishing excitement. He can meet — 
 if he should perchance again meet them — and greet them as old 
 friends ; — but let them beware of touching upon their dogmas about 
 excitement and insanity ! 
 
 This is all a part of that sadly defective system under which the 
 whole subject of insanity remains. 
 
 To such of his readers as feel an interest in what is doing and 
 saying relative to this neglected class of sufferers, the author would 
 strenuously urge the perusal of the short debate 22d of 9th month 
 (September) 1841, on that devoted and Christian Philanthropist 
 Lord Ashley's moving the further progress of the Lunacy Bill. 
 
 Of the fearful facts there referred to — and of the truth of which, 
 the author from his knowledge of other cases, has not the slightest 
 doubt — what can- — rather, what ought to be said in a civilized — much 
 more a Christian country like England ? Why, at least, that being 
 known, by no possibility should such things be allowed to continue.
 
 •>■>■> M)TI> TO ( WTti II 
 
 Note :k. Page 2s. 
 
 •• /•'<>/- shunning thee, blythe » vercise, man's driven 
 '/'<- moping idleness!" 
 
 The author will again confess that the penning these notes affords 
 mi inconsiderable relief to a sensitive mind, who has had three months 
 
 at one time, m\ months at another, and nearly the same period a 
 third time, to observe, with close scrutiny, the various shades of in- 
 Banity which, in public and private asylums, have come under his 
 notice ; — and on the important subject of bodily exercise, he is fain to 
 express his conviction, that sufficient attention is rarely paid to it. 
 lb- remembers particularly, at the Friends' Retreat in 1834, noticing 
 the singular deportment of one fellow-sufferer who would either 
 Bit by the fire, if winter, nearly the whole day, — or in fine 
 weather, station himself at some corner of the grounds and stand 
 for hours, or only move a few paces. The individual ate freely, and 
 was stout, not to say corpulent; — and so convinced was the author 
 he wanted more exercise, that he once uttered aloud the idea of 
 placing the individual in a child's go-cart and harnessing a donkey, 
 with a boy or keeper to drive it for an hour or two ; — and he verily 
 believes that this gentle, though compulsory, procedure would soon 
 have had the effect of occasioning the requisite exercise by a volun- 
 tary walk on the part of the patient. 
 
 No attendant is fit for his vocation who has not his eye constantly 
 upon the personal habits and exercise of those over whom he has 
 control ; — and yet the author fears that, in by far too many instances, 
 this is little thought of, and the patient consequently dreams and 
 exists on from one year to another in a state of bodily, as w r ell as 
 mental, disease. 
 
 Note 36. Page 2!). 
 
 "Fin/ not in store 
 Tin/ tut,/, i/i/li amusements." 
 
 Next to walking exercise, the subject of out-door and in-door 
 amusement is of the first importance. Cricket, quoits, chess^ 
 drafts, bagatelle, &c. — and if the establishment be sufficiently 
 large to afford it, the author would unquestionably recommend
 
 NOTES TO CANTO II. 223 
 
 a billiard table • — which, in most respectable asylums, he knows is 
 regularly provided, and to which, all gambling aside, no reasonable 
 objection can exist. 
 
 It is not by an hour's stroll through the wards or private rooms of 
 an asylum, that the most observing and sagacious mind can dis- 
 cover all the requisites for these mournfully interesting institutions. 
 To be fully assured on these matters— to be thoroughly acquainted 
 with the advantages and requirements of any given establishment, it is 
 necessary that the party should, like the author, be a fellow-sojourner 
 within their walls, and observe from day to day, and week to week, 
 the use made of such amusements as are provided, and their effects 
 upon the minds of a patient. Where, even among the convalescents, 
 there is perhaps little disposition for reading, there is often a cheer- 
 ful eagerness for some game ; — and the author is entirely convinced 
 that whatever sufficiently interests to engage the attention,— provided 
 it be harmless in itself, — it is highly important and salutary to en- 
 courage in the patient. Of course to the above he would add a 
 library of lighter and more general works — such as biography, 
 history, natural history, mechanics, &c. &c. 
 
 Note 37. Page 30. 
 
 " But sympathy 
 Can soon discern the bent." 
 
 Alas ! the very expression " sympathy" brings the author with 
 tenfold force of conviction to the importance of the subject touched 
 upon in Note 32. Where is that exquisite, that soothing and win- 
 ning emotion of the heart — the hand-maid of human friendship and 
 Christian love — to be found in the ordinary class of attendants ? In 
 vain too often would the illiterate mind of these persons see — 
 
 " That oft his patient needs a gentle guide, 
 
 To win him on ; — nor walk, nor play will he 
 Seek of himself always." 
 
 Where, but in the breast of a cultivated man or woman can you 
 find those elements of which real sympathy is composed ? For the 
 possession of this, there must be, not only an affinity of taste and feel- 
 ing, but the patient must, if possible, have some one with him to 
 whom he can look up as to a "guide, philosopher and friend," in the
 
 224 NOTES TO C VNTO II. 
 
 absence of those who deem him or her unlit fertile protecting care 
 of wife, husband, child or brother. 
 
 Note 38. Page 31. 
 
 " In the day 
 Of thy i cperiment, remember that all pray." 
 
 Those who have gone through the Poem without reading the notes, 
 and come back to them as a supplementary matter, will, the author 
 trusts, find evidence enough of his view of the indispensable duty of 
 uniting in this, the most onerous and responsible of all human un- 
 kings, the duty of "praying without ceasing." For such as 
 the QOte8 with the Poem, the author avails himself of this, the 
 firM Legitimate opportunity of avowing himself of Cowper's school of 
 Christian Bards ; — and to express hi-- prayerful determination thai no 
 line of his Bhall ever cause his Redeemei to be ashamed of him in 
 the great day, when the scoffer and the scoffed shall appear at the 
 throne of final judgment. 
 
 Note 39. Page 31 . 
 " 'Tis not for Bards to sing of creeds or forms'' 
 
 Atheists and deists excepted, who reject the Scriptures altogether, 
 ii i- presumed that all, of whatever profession or diversity of creed, 
 acknowledge themselves to be guided by, and to trace their faith up 
 to the revealed will of God. Wherever, therefore, the author finds 
 in any human being, with whom the Providence of circumstances 
 brings him into contact and intercourse, that the love of the Creator 
 and of his neighbour as himself, is predominant in the heart, then 
 indeed is he convinced that it is not for him to say or "sing" of 
 " creeds or forms." 
 
 But he cannot suffer this catholic concession of universal love and 
 philanthropy to pass, without adding to it the deep conviction of his 
 own heart, that this paramount love of odd ami his fellow-being 
 can only be achieved by that sweetly constraining power in 
 the secret of the soul so beautifully spoken of by the apostle as 
 "Christ within, the hope of glory." Whenever therefore, he finds
 
 NOTES TO CANTO II. 225 
 
 that the purpose, offices and divine glory of the Saviour and Medi- 
 ator, are in any degree tarnished by low and insufficient views of his 
 atonement and indwelling grace, then the author would inevitably 
 fear that the heart was not yet right with God — and that His love 
 could not reign paramount in the breast of that man or woman, who, 
 in the all sufficiency of reason, dares to reject the divinity and re- 
 deeming love of Christ the Redeemer of the world ; — than whom 
 none other name is given under heaven whereby we can be saved. 
 
 Note 40. Page 32. 
 
 " But tamed 
 By man's imperfect art, the reckless boy." 
 
 To his more distant readers, the allusions contained in the above 
 quotation to one of the march-of-inteilect modes of tuition may not 
 be quite so obvious as it is the author's serious wish it should be ; 
 and he therefore feels it right to say that for some years there 
 flourished in the immediate vicinity of the populous town of 
 B*********, a large boarding-school, conducted on a system of 
 which the Edinburgh Review thought so highly, as to devote an 
 article several years ago to the express object of setting forth its 
 merits ; and thereby, he believes, considerably added to its numbers 
 within a comparatively short period of the appearance of said eulo- 
 gistic article. Later facts have not realized all that the reviewer 
 opined of its marvel-working advantages in that neighbourhood ; 
 and the conductors, with diminished numbers, have subsequently 
 transplanted their establishment to the neighbourhood of London : — ■ 
 but with what results, the author's absence from the neighbour- 
 hood for the last two or three years, has prevented his knowing. 
 
 All such schemes are, of course, open to the public scrutiny, and 
 to the opinions of the humble denizens of Warwickshire, as much as to 
 the Athenian oracles of the " blue" company of Edina; and the author 
 unhesitatingly takes his stand against this or any other scheme of 
 education which professedly excludes religion from the subjects of 
 instruction or intelligence. 
 
 Oh ! when will mankind be sufficiently awakened to the awful re- 
 sponsibility of training intellects, as well as hearts, for their after- walk 
 in life ? For on that walk, of course, depends the ultimate and eter- 
 nal destiny of the immortal spirit itself. 
 
 Q
 
 226 : i - TO ' INTO II. 
 
 Notb 41. Page 32. 
 '• . I eodi of morals." 
 
 It was one of the vaunted benefits of the establishment referred to 
 in the preceding note, thai the minds of the boys and youths at 
 II • • ■ • • v, ere, by means of an apparatus of judge, counsi 1 and jury, 
 of their own election, thus early initiated into the art. mystery, and 
 advantages of thai very "law," which theApostle, in his Epistle to 
 rinthians, so especially cautions bis disciples against, and 
 which the author is perfectly satisfied the Society of Friends is 
 right in condemning and dissuading from. These modern instruc- 
 tionists can. with entire indifference, sel aside all scriptural know- 
 led| appertaining to religious education, and, therefore, beside 
 
 their mark: but make no scruple of introducing a complex ma- 
 chinery of man's forming;— and connected with which, in real life, 
 more misery, fraud and wrong, have been perpetrated than can well 
 be conceived. 
 
 But the author's contempt for the whole subject grows weary, 
 under the heavier weight of his feelings of commiseration for those 
 hapless children brought into the patent bondage of this judicial, 
 democratical and military array, lie may, however, add, that he 
 doe- not speak altogether in ignorance of the real working of the 
 in: having Known many elcves — as well Unitarians as others — 
 brought up under the fostering with which the " Edinburgh Re- 
 viewers'' bepraised U ' ' ' ' ' ' . 
 
 Noii. 42. Page 33. 
 
 " Say'si thou ilini tins is judging ?" 
 
 The author feels impelled to im roduce t hese words in reference to 
 the denunciatory stanza before it. from recollecting that, five years 
 
 . when the "Solitaire" published his " Diary," some otherwise 
 kind-hearted critic, who thought well of his intentions, chose to 
 designate hi- remarks on Byron, Voltaire, and the whole genii of 
 misanthropy and revolution, a- "audacious;" gravely adding the 
 Scriptural word-, '• judge not that ye be not judged." 
 
 "When this worthy penman will satisfy the author's mind that
 
 NOTES TO CANTO II. 227 
 
 either Lord Byron or Voltaire, deserves other than the reprobation of 
 those simple-hearted persons, who prefer Milton, Cowper, — and above 
 even these, — Isaiah, to the Corsairs, Don Juans, and Candides of such 
 reckless destroyers of the peace of thousands upon thousands ; — then, 
 and not till then, will he be disposed to give much heed to the 
 Critic's oracular sentiments upon the " Solitaire's " opinion. 
 
 Note 43. Page 33. 
 
 " What ! though a heart polluted in th' extreme 
 
 May throb within this breast ; — can Christ not heal 
 Each wound ; and 'mid remorse' s pangs his love reveal ?" 
 
 Having known something of the very depths and bondage of ini- 
 quity in all its forms ; — and having also proved the efficacy of a 
 Saviour's blood and a Saviour's love, to cleanse from sin and to win 
 unto better hopes, the author is well prepared to meet any challenge 
 on the score of whatsoever he either has, or may hereafter pub- 
 lish to the world, as his sentiments on the important subject 
 — of popular authors, their errors, and responsibility. If, however, 
 as stated in the above quotation, the author was even the evil spirit 
 himself, that does not shake one iota of the truths which he sustains 
 by the Bible, and by the Bible only. " By their fruits ye shall 
 know them " — " Do men gather grapes of thorns ?" — Christian 
 meekness and lowliness from Byron, the proud and self-sufficient ; 
 or love of Jesus from the conceited counsellor and correspondent 
 of Frederick the Great ? 
 
 On those whose day of usefulness is, like the author's, rapidly 
 passing away, and who are alive to the extreme importance of the 
 duty which devolves upon parents and tutors of every description, as 
 to the choice of reading, there does, as he conceives, rest a fearful 
 responsibility of aimising to the same pitch of feeling the minds of 
 those around them ; — and, as far as their influence lies, the public at 
 large, on this momentous theme of indiscriminate reading. Let 
 the world, and its heedless frequenters of the " broad way," and 
 "wide gate," take their own course: — if they are determined to 
 refuse the call and counsel of those who have demonstrated that 
 the "narrow path" and the "strait gate" are ways of pleasant- 
 ness, and all its paths, however rugged, paths of peace and hap- 
 piness. But to his professing brethren and sisters of every 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 : BS TO CANTO II 
 
 denomination he would say. unhesitatingly,- -yea, most uncom- 
 promisingly,— " Con ui from among" these reckless read, 
 
 "and be ye separate" from those who forget their (Jod, and have 
 
 no relish for the glorious hopes, divine promises, and Mil, lime com- 
 
 itions, contained in the writings of those holy men of old, who 
 
 re insj in 1 of God to give forth a declaration of his will, and of 
 
 his love to poor, fallen, miserable man. 
 
 Note 44. Page 33. 
 
 " 111 bind 
 Tin/ sophistry, i r es ! spite of I',"* *•**'« mind.*' 
 
 Oh, in many an agonising hour of prayer for those of his mis- 
 guided countrymen, who look to the B*** #, **s, and others, 
 as their meridian star, for guidance through the wilderness of this 
 world's woe — hath the author besought his Maker, that, ere it 
 were too late, the eyes of their myriad votaries might be opened, 
 and their ears unstopped; that they might see the hlindness of their 
 Leaders, and hence the sophistry of their vain and Christ-defying 
 ■ iiing. 
 
 The author does not wish lightly to speak of the ex-chancellor, 
 
 from mere hearsay; but when, on looking over an interesting 
 compilation the other day, he caught the following quotation from 
 Lord Brougham's inaugural address, in the common hall of the 
 University of Glasgow, as lord rector, he felt electrically deter- 
 mined to mark the man — the giant of the Bowrings, Birkhecks, 
 Benthams, and the whole pedigree of critic bees, and noted it 
 down accordingly. This intellectual new light of the nineteenth 
 century asserts, " That man is now no longer to render an account 
 to man for hi-, belief, over which //<■ has no controid." — "Hencefor- 
 ward nothi -hall prevail upon us to praise or to blame 
 any one for that which he can no more change than he can the hue 
 of his skin, or the height of his stature." 
 
 The author is quite prepared to suppose that the utterer of 
 these sentiments- the redoubtable friend to education and the dif- 
 fusion of knowledge — would deem himself libelled to be called 
 an infidel; but the writer has not a moment's hesitation in 
 declaring bis solemn com iction, that if evera sentiment was broached 
 calculated lo lead to infidelity, it is to be (bund in the words already
 
 NOTES TO CANTO II. 229 
 
 quoted, and which he has a right to assume have heen correctly re- 
 ported as part of the address of Lord R ector Brougham to the stu- 
 dents of the University of Glasgow. Does his lordship mean to say 
 — and dare, in spite of his Bible, to assert — that man, as regards his 
 eternal well-being, is a mere automaton ? and that the words of 
 Holy Writ are idle tales ? That when he is enjoined " to work 
 out his salvation with fear and trembling," he has nothing to do 
 with his belief of whether that duty be incumbent upon him or not? 
 If he does read, and in child-like humility study the Scriptures, it is 
 clear that some change will be wrought in his mind, his affections 
 and actions : — whatever produces these effects is to him his "belief:" 
 and if that belief be followed up, it will, like the leaven and the 
 mustard-seed, spoken of by our blessed Lord, both change the 
 whole lump, and grow to a great tree. The " hue " of the man's 
 soul will be changed, and the " stature " of his heart will be en- 
 larged. 
 
 But what the author, in solemn earnestness, intreats Lord 
 Brougham to consider, is, the tendency of a man's imagining that he 
 is not, as the Apostle advises, to prepare himself " to give a reason 
 for the hope that is in him." Is it not to make him, first of all, rest 
 satisfied with the creed or belief, which, by birth or education, he 
 has inherited from others ? and hearing so great a man as a Lord 
 Chancellor, the friend of universal knowledge, say, that he is no 
 more to be praised or blamed for continuing in this belief, what- 
 ever it be, than he is because his skin is white, and his stature five 
 feet nine inches, the next probable step, with poor frail humanity 
 is to become indifferent to the subject of religion altogether. 
 
 Oh ! that England may be preserved from the evils which the 
 author fears would await her, were she to give heed to the " cun- 
 ningly devised fables" of these march -of- intellect Goliahs and their 
 inferiors. Inferiors in every sense — for be it remembered, that 
 down to the itinerant vender of knowledge in numbers, — every 
 man or woman who is not truly converted and thinks of Lord 
 Brougham and his great name only as an instrument in the hands 
 of an inscrutable Providence — every such person doubtless fancies 
 himself under his Lordship's especial patronage. 
 
 The author has in another part of his Poem expressed unfeigned 
 admiration for genius — for learning, science, and art — in every un- 
 objectionable foi-m, so long as it is accompanied with that crowning 
 grace of the truly great Sir Isaac Newton's fame, a child-like and 
 sanctified humility. He is therefore the last person to disparage the
 
 230 NOTES TO CANTO II. 
 
 great talents of Lord Brougham, assured as he is that they present 
 splendid evidences of v. hat the mind <»f man is capable ; — hut to the 
 latent hour of his existence, he must continue to utter his condem- 
 nation of perverted gifts, such as, in his sober conscience, he deems 
 the sentiment now quoted to demonstrate to be the ease with Lord 
 Brougham. Is it possible also to forget that this was not an eii pat* 
 sunt remark at the social board, and at a moment when the tongue, 
 with the aid of wine and good fellowship, is sometimes apt to run 
 further than the pen of the same individual would have carried 
 him: — no! it was uttered under an unusually interesting pomp 
 of circumstance ; — in the presence of the assembled youth of the 
 University, listening as, no doubt, many, if not the majority thought, 
 to one of the oracles of the age. If for "every idle word," as the 
 Bible declares — "man shall give an account in the day of judg- 
 ment," — (and as most righteously he ought — for who can measure 
 the influence of words ?) — it remains for that great and learned Lord 
 Brougham, if he attain no higher views of his Redeemer's cha- 
 racter and precepts than is implied by the vague and dangerous 
 sentiments the author is now descanting upon, to learn whether at 
 the bar of final and eternal adjudication, his words will not be 
 found worse than " idle." 
 
 On this subject, however, the author has appended an additional 
 reference at the conclusion of the notes, which he trusts may be 
 somewhat less unsatisfactory as regards the distinguished individual 
 to whom it refers. 
 
 Note 45. Page 33. 
 
 " Or tin 1/ who in Edina's classic page 
 Defied their God." 
 
 Whoever was the author of an article on education in the " Edin- 
 burgh Review" of some years bark, and took upon himself to eulogise 
 the system of an Unitarian establishment in one of the midland 
 counties, the writer of these notes has little scruple in saying, that if 
 he were a true prophet or righteous judge in such matters, the history 
 of that school, which, within a short period from the publication of 
 that article, rose considerably in its numbers, would not have pre- 
 sented the facts which time has developed. Whatever may be the 
 Fate of the one near the m< tropolis, conducted, so far as the author 
 knows, by one or more members of the same family, the result of
 
 NOTES TO CANTO II. 231 
 
 the experiment at H******** fully assures his mind that a divine 
 blessing has not attended it. 
 
 He repeats, that the facts are before the world : — the schools went 
 on prosperously for some years, and then came its period of wane, 
 which continued for some time, till it was finally deemed prudent to 
 strike their tents and remove to some other spot. Is it in anger or 
 ill will, that the author is thus free in his remarks ?— He takes truth 
 to witness that such is not the case. He has more than once accom- 
 panied his remoter friends travelling in that part, and who had heard 
 of its fame, and were most kindly received by the proprietor and 
 his sons. But is this courteousness of demeanour to blind the 
 moral sight of the visitor, and to close his lips against what he 
 deems the fearful effects and errors of the whole system ? The author 
 trusts not; and holding the welfare of the rising generation to 
 be of infinitely more importance than the fame or success of one 
 family, he has thus unreservedly ventured to express his feelings on 
 the subject. 
 
 Note 46. Page 34. 
 
 " JVhate'er mid seats of learning or of art 
 Be man's decree; — or genius' lofty will — 
 
 With these a Saviour'' s love can have no part — 
 A child-like heart best suits his heavenly skill." 
 
 Should his readers deem the author more than prone to sermonise, 
 in thus retracing the course of his muse, and throwing in these sub. 
 sidiary notices of his opinions and feelings on various subjects, he 
 must even be content to abide under the imputation of being a 
 preacher as well as poet. But having himself trod the flowery, as 
 well as the thorny paths of life ; and having, through the mercy of 
 his Redeemer, obtained more insight into his own heart, and into the 
 alone way to recover the lost smiles of a benignant Deity, he is, in- 
 deed, more than thus prone to moralize — for " out of the abundance of 
 the heart the mouth will speak." Unhesitatingly, therefore, does he 
 adopt the sentiment of his text, and say that no man can reach hap- 
 piness in this world, or salvation in the next, who does not conform 
 his spirit, however lofty the moral condition may be, to the express 
 words of the Saviour — " Verily I say unto you, except ye be con- 
 verted and become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter into 
 the kingdom of heaven."
 
 NOTES TO CANTO III. 
 
 Note. 47. Page 39. 
 
 " And if that scene 
 Hi/ Patriarcli painted, or in Milton's wreath, 
 II /. / on earth, 'tis J)" »•••••»« groves beneath." 
 
 Tiif. minstrel having in the context endeavoured to convey some 
 faint idea of the hidden beauties of this secluded 6pot, has little 
 here to add; but does not hesitate to say, that much as he has seen 
 of the more romantic scenery of Britain and of Switzerland, he 
 knows no spot, of the same extent, comparable to ])***»**•* m 
 the variety and richness of its plantations, and in the occasional 
 scenes of perfect and luxuriant solitude which its grounds present. 
 
 Note 48. Page 39. 
 
 " From B— *******'* increase, 
 0) and of arts of tear and peace." 
 
 \ xt to Liverpool, Manchester and Glasgow, it i> presumed that 
 even in reaped to its rapid "increase of voices" fir population, 
 £•••*••«•• stands most prominent among the manufacturing 
 towns of England ; and in it> arts of war, — gun-making for example 
 — ia foremost in the career of destruction as well as radicalism. 
 
 In the strong and uncompromising sentiments to which the Bard 
 has occasionally given utterance, the author's only regret is, 
 that he could not, consistently with his general design, dwell more
 
 NOTES TO CANTO III. 233 
 
 at length upon this individual portion of the picture ; — or unques- 
 tionably, from a fifteen years' residence amongst them, he might 
 dwell with painful fidelity upon some points peculiar to the history 
 and character of the place. 
 
 Suffice it, however, to advert to the one or two large and excited 
 meetings held amongst the operatives of the town, and headed by the 
 usual mob orators with which the locality abounds : the celebrated 
 meeting at New Hall Hill, which the author witnessed from a neigh- 
 bouring height, was assuredly formidable enough in appearance to 
 have awakened fears in the minds of those much less timorous than 
 himself, as to the probable result of such assemblages. He is perfectly 
 willing to accede the fact, that others took a different view from him- 
 self :— and that after all, as any adverse sentiment can only be the 
 act of a single individual, when expressed in this way, that senti- 
 ment is to be weighed only by its inherent truth or falsehood. What- 
 ever salutary influence such men as Thomas Attwood and the scions 
 of his political stock may possess in keeping down, for the time, un- 
 due excitement and agitation, the author, from the language he has 
 heard and the deportment he has witnessed on more than one of 
 these popular occasions, cannot forego the conviction that such 
 assemblages are both injurious in themselves and dangerous to the 
 cause of true liberty. 
 
 Surely the mere expenditure of time, — seldom less than the whole 
 day, — together with the increased irritation produced on the minds 
 of such auditors as usually assemble — must be a positive injury to 
 these men ; and whatever unduly agitates or alarms the public mind 
 in the movements of masses must be dangerous to the cause they 
 affect, above all others, to promote — the true liberty of the subject. 
 Governments, most naturally, become jealous of the object and extent 
 of such proceedings, and feel it unsafe to yield to opinions set forth 
 in the aspect and language of defiance. 
 
 Note 49. Page 40. 
 
 " Ah yes ! dear M**** is true 
 To England's Church, arid England's Royal Fine." 
 
 The estimable individual to whom the above has reference, is a 
 fine example of a clergyman winning the respect of his less religious
 
 ROTBS TO I \N TO Ml. 
 
 brethren, as w ell a-- the devofo d love and confidence of bis own im- 
 mediate Bock; and gladly does tin- author recall the numerous i 
 dons on which he has listened with delight to the platform addresses 
 of this excellent person on subjects of Christian or philanthropic 
 interest:— feeling that the language and Bentiments of such minds 
 ■would do much towards counteracting the baneful influence of the 
 spirits of the mere political agitation; and though 
 doubtless, there are many righteous in that large and populoui 
 trict, there are, the author fears, but few possessing, in the same de- 
 gree, the salt of Christian love and forbearance that mark the ex- 
 cellent person above referred to. 
 
 N iti: 50. Page 50. 
 
 "Nor thee forgot im. M i that thrnn^ 
 
 Of sainted ones who yet redeem tin town." 
 
 In this ri-spected minister might also be discerned the rare union 
 of meekness and firmness — gentleness and fearlessness. Holding a 
 conspicuous station in the Church, and frequently called in the exer- 
 cise of duty to preside over large and tumultuous meetings of his 
 fellow townsmen — this remarkable felicity of character was espe- 
 cially displayed. Entering the scene of exciting agitation with the 
 prayerful earnestness of a private Christian, he was strength 
 to manifest the love which became his profession as a pastor of reli- 
 gion: and so far sustained in the clear exercise of his rights and 
 authority as chairman, that nothing like a compromise of either 
 dignity or principle was visible throughout. But alas! how lament- 
 able that any circumstances in the social system relating to either 
 tythe, church-rates, or any other subject unpalatable to the public 
 feeling, should bring into so painful a juxta-position, a minister 
 of I el and the orators of political democracy. 
 
 Note 51. Page 44. 
 
 "Fa*/ by yon Railway's bridge" 
 
 The Grand Junction Railway, which connects Birmingham 
 with Manchester and Liverpool, forms, on the western side, the
 
 NOTES TO CANTO III. 235 
 
 boundary of the D******** property ;— and of course, from the one or 
 two fields between the wooded belt which encloses the immediate 
 grounds and the railing itself, the passing trains are seen to great 
 advantage. Nor could the author thus silently contemplate, as 
 he often did in his walks, the swift and rushing transit of those 
 lengthened masses, without astonishment at the progress which Eng- 
 land, in his own recollection, has made. To recall his coach ride, 
 some thirty years ago, from Manchester to Liverpool on a paved 
 road; — and to remember his subsequent journeyings on the rail- 
 road, — suffices to assure him that this, amongst other marvellous 
 evidences of the rapid advances which are making in the luxuries 
 of life and of locomotion, is but the prelude to some greater era, 
 which the eye of faith may even now discern as dawning upon the 
 world. 
 
 Note 52. Page 44. 
 
 " As, Hope, in thee, 
 Or Burlington in by-gone days, when steel'd, 
 'Gainst critics laugh, your clearer eye could see 
 In Architecture's noble forms a latent majesty .'" 
 
 Whatever may be the occasional freaks of noblemen and gentle- 
 men who dabble in designs, there can be no doubt, that, — backward 
 though the art be in this country, as compared with Italy and 
 other parts of the Continent, — things would have been much worse, 
 but for the taste and munificent enterprize of the Burlingtons, 
 Hopes, Grosvenors, Devonshires, Sutherlands, &c. 
 
 Note 53. Page 45. 
 
 "By many a youthful eye where G*****'s lore 
 Full oft, I ween, breathed gratitude to God above.'' 
 
 If there be any sincerity in the use of the Church's beautiful 
 liturgy, those expressive words — "We bless thee for our creation, pre- 
 servation, and all the blessings of this life," — surely the late wealthy 
 proprietor and his highly accomplished family, must often and often, 
 in rambling around the grounds of D********, have uttered in silent
 
 NOTES TO C \NT<) III. 
 
 aspirations, the language of grateful adoration for the profusion of 
 temporal blessings hy which they were surrounded. So at least the 
 muse ventures to suppose. 
 
 Note 54. Page 4(>. 
 
 •• )', v .' and amid the young, the happy, thou, 
 Displaying still n nobly pious mind" 
 
 Of one of the accomplished family to which allusion is made in 
 the preceding note, the author i- fain to say a few words ; and as the 
 name of the authoress— a labourer in the great cause of Christ, 
 is public property, he feels himself fairly justified in thus recording 
 the delight with which he has formerly perused M. A. Schimmelpen- 
 ninck's translation of the Port Royal Memoirs — abounding as they 
 do, in examples of the purest, most exalted piety among the Catho- 
 lic Sisters there domiciled, and thence dislodged by the ruthless 
 hand of persecution. The very reproduction of such a work, inde- 
 pendent of the general tenor of her own portion of its contents, marks 
 bow deeply this excellent woman's heart must have been imbued 
 with the fervent and self-denying spirit which breathes through 
 her interesting subject. 
 
 Note 55. Page 46. 
 
 " Ami though 'linn- right that Howard not expends, 
 I nknown, his Godlike toil — nor Wesley so contends" 
 
 No one can deny that, as an universal system of life, the immuring 
 ourselves within the walls of a convent or an abbey, would, in a 
 in sense, be at direct variance with the command, "Let your 
 tighl so shine," &c, on the other hand, the author is quite convinced 
 that, in addition to the collateral advantages which the world has 
 unquestionably derived by the production and preservation of books, 
 musl be considered the affording to the Bcholar a favouring oppor- 
 tunity for pursuing undisturbed his mental labours, lie is also 
 further convinced that thousands and tens of thousands of in- 
 f pure and ardent piety might be cited, in opposition 
 to the popular outcry and prejudice against the abuses and
 
 NOTES TO CANTO III. 237 
 
 profligacy which, alas ! it must be acknowledged, have too often 
 found access within these sacred enclosures. But in this, as in 
 every thing else, should it not be remembered, that without a 
 knowledge of all the circumstances influencing each individual, it is 
 impossible for the finite judgment of man to determine that the 
 course which the novice or the monk adopted is to be condemned ? 
 Nor is it fair to take the extreme cases of one in millions, as Howard 
 or Wesley in the text, to imply that all are called to labour as they 
 laboured. 
 
 Without disrespect to the fair, the author feels compelled to ask 
 what the community would suffer, if all the scandal mongers and 
 card-playing gossips of any given town were suddenly to resolve 
 upon shutting themselves up in a house of their own ? Surely no 
 candid reader will thence charge the Quaker minstrel with being 
 an advocate of papacy. If their alarm be so great, and their wdts so 
 obtuse as to draw such an inference from the preceding remarks, he 
 cannot help it, and must rest satisfied with the consciousness of en- 
 deavouring to detach from man's judgment of his neighbour, all pre- 
 judices arising from extraneous circumstances. If the heart be right 
 before God, well satisfied is he, that the Lady Guions of this day will 
 be accepted in their convents, quite as soon as the sensitive liberals 
 and voluntaries of mere profession, with which what is called the 
 religious world abounds. 
 
 Note 56. Page 47. 
 
 "Or, alas! 
 This turbid lake from its polluted stream 
 Might icell for mail's humiliation pass 
 As simile of souls." 
 
 Often and often as, in his evening walks, the author strolled 
 among the luxuriant and richly crowded solitudes of D********, has 
 this upper pool struck his mind as a fearful and apt emblem of the 
 heart of man. The outward form may be beautiful, like the mar- 
 gined groves of this sheet of water; even the mental part— the in- 
 tellect, — may reflect, in rich abundance, the rays of knowledge, as 
 this pool does the heavens and the objects around it ; so that when, 
 under peculiar circumstances of light, the eye is unable to discover 
 whether the water is clear or turbid, it has to all appearance the same
 
 NOTES TO CANTO III. 
 
 izling brightness and perfect fluidity that might be observed on a 
 calm Bea, of which the waters are bo pellucid, that you may discover 
 shells and plants at many fathoms' depth. So is it not, Christian 
 ler, with the heart of man, the depths of which God's eye only 
 can penetrate? Though to the observation of his fellow mortal even, 
 it may soon be ohvious whether the water of everlasting life fills that 
 
 unfathomed lake, the heart;— or like this pool at D***' , it be 
 
 overflowing with the filthy and polluted streams of pride, lust and 
 self; — "the world, the flesh and the devil." 
 
 The late proprietor of D******** must have been a man of con- 
 summate taste, both in the general arrangement of the grounds, in 
 the variety and judicious distribution of its rich assemblage of trees* 
 and in the details of beauty or convenience throughout the premises. 
 Annulet the latter a small but excellent bath is provided, by con- 
 veying a delightfully clear streamlet through iron pipes, and dis- 
 charging it through another at the opposite end of the bath, so as 
 to kicp tin- water constantly changing and fresh. The situation of 
 the hath, as described in the text, is most ingeniously hidden by a 
 circuitous path through well-planted evergreens; and when at last 
 you turn to the right, upon the spot itself, you find a well-bricked 
 basin 15 or 16 feet square, surrounded by a gravel space about three 
 feet wide, and enclosed by light iron fencing, hedged around by a 
 thick impervious belt of rhododendrons and other shrubs six or 
 seven feet high, so as entirely to screen the bather from sight. The 
 author, who bathed regularly every morning soon after six during 
 the summer months, did not latterly use the garden seat near the bath 
 itself for undressing ; but chose the octagon temple, also mentioned 
 in the text, and which had this advantage, that his bracing plunges 
 were never interfered with by the heaviest rain ;— and swan-like, the 
 Bard of D** • rather enjoyed than otherwise the pattering of the 
 
 rain-drops upon his Adam form. He cannot conclude this note 
 without expressing his decided conviction that bathing is by far too 
 much neglected in this country. Having for more than thirty years 
 experienced it- benefits, he feels justified in thus giving "utterance 
 to thi - passing remark. 
 
 Note 57. Page 53. 
 
 " Hath taught thy long-tried soul from out poor self to more." 
 
 To a casual observer, and especially to those who take upon 
 themselves the responsibility of consigning to the fearful bonds of
 
 NOTES TO CANTO III. 239 
 
 an asylum, a merely excited patient, there is no doubt that the 
 increased irritation which that confinement induces, will convey a 
 certain tone of selfishness to all the sufferer says and does. The 
 author clearly admits it in his own case; but he is quite prepared 
 to explain, not to say justify this anger, if the legitimate opportunity 
 should be afforded him. The allusion in the text, however, does 
 not bear upon the egotism engendered by a feeling of the unright- 
 eousness of that power by which he has been suddenly torn from 
 home, friends and temporal prospects : — no, the self there spoken 
 of, is that still remaining depravity of heart, which clings to huma- 
 nity through every process of its Divine Maker's cleansing and 
 refining. 
 
 Note 58. Page 54. 
 " But say not all is sin." 
 
 In venturing to believe that D******** Hall is now devoted to 
 quite as good a purpose as in the days of its wonted splendour, 
 when one of the most opulent families in the neighbourhood as- 
 sembled there all that was attractive in station or in talent, either in 
 its own immediate and extensive connections, or the wider range of 
 literary and philosophic acquaintance which the late proprietor 
 possessed; the author by no means Avishes to be understood as 
 saying that its former purpose was in any sense exceptionable ; but 
 merely, that his residence here enabled him to perceive how admi- 
 rably the premises are, in every way, adapted to their present Sa- 
 maritan object. 
 
 In conceding, however, that the rooms in question, — together with 
 the corresponding one on the other side the hall, and the present 
 writing and dining rooms, — were not necessarily devoted to excep- 
 tionable purposes, — the moralizing " Solitaire," cannot forbear ex- 
 pressing his most entire concurrence with the views in which balls, 
 routs and card parties were held by the sage forefathers of the 
 Friends of the present day. 
 
 To those who will do this poem the justice to read it entirely 
 through, ere they assume to sit in judgment on its novelty or fidelity 
 to Christian truth, the question which the author is about to put 
 will appear less outre and extravagant, than to the mere idle readers 
 who take up a book in the spirit of curiosity, and read just so far
 
 2 |ij tfOTES TO C LNTO III. 
 
 •hat curiosity or their personal feelings may be interested; but 
 forthwith discard the volume, so soon as any the most distant 
 
 roach to Bermonizing becomes apparent. And precisely such are 
 the mole-like myriads of mankind, whose morals and predictive 
 
 ich but to the scenes and circumstances around them; 
 and, with about as much, or peradventure less light than the mole 
 
 , f. arc burrowing amid the "earthy" sensualities and dissipations 
 of life; — and with thai equally persevering animal, had it a tongue, — 
 or with the Labrador Esquimaux and his seal-skin coat and seal-fat 
 diet, proclaim that happiness dwells with them; and that the dance 
 and the song — the concert and the cards, — are the elements and 
 aliment of that life which alone is worth having. 
 
 The question is this — and living in a professedly Christian coun- 
 try, the author is surely justified in putting it on the authority of 
 the Uible itself — docs the believer who receives as the inspired 
 declaration of the great Ruler of nations, the prophecies of Isaiah, 
 
 11 and others, with reference to that age of the world " when 
 righteousness shall cover the earth as the waters cover the sea," 
 imagine that halls, routs and card parties will then form the element 
 and aliment of life? If so, his reader's apprehension of the terms 
 righteousness, peace and holiness, are totally at variance with that 
 of the "Solitaire." When extravagance and display in die--, 
 ring how much of destitute wretchedness there is in the world) 
 is identified with "righteousness;" — when the ten thousand petty 
 jealousies, envies and bickerings too often connected with such 
 scenes, can he identified with "peace" in its pure and elevated 
 sense; — and finally, when the reckless disregard to modesty in count- 
 ways is identified with that " holiness, without which no man " or 
 woman "shall ever see the Lord:" — then, and not till then will the 
 author withhold from every human soul within the sphere of his 
 humble influence, the condemnation, which from an intimate ac- 
 quaintance with the scenes themselves, and with many families 
 who have surrendered themselves to them as their staple of hap- 
 piness, he feels fully warranted in uttering. 
 
 If, on the other hand, such scenes are alien to the simple, child- 
 like and confiding character of the restored gospel times, every 
 Christian man or woman, who really and truly believes the Bible, 
 mu-' feel that, in SO far as the approach to those blissful ages must 
 be gradual, each one so believing is imperatively called to abstain 
 fnun such anti-Christian pleasures; — and surely there is a wise and 
 happy medium between the morbid self-denial of a monk of La
 
 Sli 
 
 NOTES TO CANTO III. 241 
 
 kless self-indulgence of a man of fashion's hours 
 
 *6 V 
 
 s of this world's pleasures deem the minstrel an 
 rom their own Bible, read Solomon's mention of 
 of Proverbs ; " Happy is the man that findeth 
 [understanding." " Her ways are ways of plea- 
 paths are peace." — Ch. iii. 13 and 17- The 
 d both ; — the one, the world, to be fullof base- 
 rseful tyrants; — the other, Christianity, — a 
 al reality. Twenty years have now elapsed 
 n of the leviathan London, and for twelve 
 life he ran the too frequent and sinful 
 e man about town." Therefore is it that, 
 faithfulness, he repeats the declaration, that 
 fid and its pleasures, and knows both the 
 ■jfuth, "vanity and vexation of spirit ;"- 
 B-iptural sense, enough to say without 
 ■tably found "her yoke to be easy and 
 
 p9. Page 56. 
 
 |, which, changing night to day, 
 fig." 
 
 uttered his anathemas against the 
 
 J— and cannot pass the above quotation 
 
 ■t to the good sense and calmer reflection 
 
 fctoconsider what would become of the 
 
 |nflight into day. ;n id vice versa,— 
 
 mie higher classes believe that 
 
 | that these fashions are in 
 
 t future times, as set forth in 
 
 wice makes so copious a use ? 
 
 as he ventures to conceive, 
 
 its, feels constrained to advert 
 
 participators in these strange 
 
 of life; — he means the youthful 
 
 fair, j Hieties of the world. A more dis- 
 
 tressin^B I he can hardly picture to his mind
 
 242 NOTES TO C A NTO III. 
 
 than ili.it of ;i young female, whose education has had a ba-is 
 sufficiently Christian t<> imbue her mind with a high sense of her 
 duty to God, and of the inviolable sacredness of conscience; but 
 wh<>. from surrounding circumstanoes of wealth, gay friends, and 
 older companions in (he pleasures of the hall-room, &c is induced, 
 in the faint hope of being preserved from direct evil, to consent 
 to ace. .114 any others, and finds too late, with Young, that 
 " 111 foreboding is our strongest guard." 
 
 The word ••our" may serve to determine that the poet meant the 
 Btrongesl human guard. The influence and tendency of Christ's grace in 
 the heart, is to draw every son and daughter of Adam from these 
 dangerous experiments upon the strength of merely human capa- 
 bility of resisting the collateral temptations that await dissipating 
 I ich as the world offers to them. 
 
 How many an- the instances of females afterwards rising to cele- 
 brity, — (witness again the late Hannah More,) — who have left behind 
 them an undying testimony to the happiness of a peaceful and se- 
 cluded life— in social and literary, and religious intercourse with 
 chosen friends, — as compared with the hurry and jealousy, and ex- 
 citing evils of what may be termed high or fashionable life. 
 
 Note 60. Page GO. 
 
 " Time seals 
 With convalescent strength mid sweet repose, 
 The maniac's tortured view." 
 
 It is admirable to watch the inherent powers of health, and that 
 elastic and invisible energy by which even chronic Bickness, but 
 especially sudden accident — as a sword or gun-shot wound, or 
 fractured limb — is Bometimes in process of a comparatively short 
 tine-, subdued. So also, is it with the mind: — many patients take 
 but a few weeks to be restored to quietude and self-possession ; 
 while Others require months or even years, before the mental powers 
 are brought into a state of convalescence. But thus, thanks be 
 unto a merciful God! it really is in thousands of instances, where 
 p tients have entered these secluded asylums under appearances 
 the most hopel* • 
 
 The suffering minstrel of D******** may well include himself in
 
 NOTES TO CANTO III. 243 
 
 the above allusion to instances of restoration ; — and in doing so, can 
 hardly forbear also referring to the soothing effect which the mere 
 composition of verse has over the mind ; — and he knows not how it 
 would have fared with him, had he not possessed this resource ; for 
 in the four months of his alleged insanity, (say rather excess of sen- 
 sibility, than privation of intellect) he composed, in addition to 
 the present poem, some eighteen or twenty fugitive pieces ; several of 
 which exceed a hundred, and one is nearly five hundred lines. 
 Alas ! but for this unlocked for resuscitation (if the expression be ad- 
 missible) of his long neglected harp, and for the power, such as he 
 possesses, of handling its sympathetic chords, the author's fearful 
 probation of confinement would have been tenfold more trying. 
 
 The author has, also, especial reason to feel thankful for habits 
 which had, for years, been gradually forming, though subject to occa- 
 sional interruptions of many months ; — and which were, by the aid of 
 discipline within the delightful precincts of D********, productive of 
 a degree of regularity he had never before attained. He is, as stated 
 in his preface, an early riser, — and after occupying the first hours of 
 the day in original composition, — took ample exercise for about two 
 hours before dinner ; accompanied those who were in a condition to 
 go out, to the walled gardens appropriated for the purpose of exer- 
 cise ; there, having measured the distance round the principal path, 
 about 120 yards, he was in the practice of marking on a slate laid 
 at the commencement of his appointed task, every round, whether 
 of walking or running ; — and in this has often accomplished, by 
 measurement, eight or even nine miles in the two hours; and so much 
 had practice improved his lungs by running, that after commencing 
 with perhaps five or six times round the garden, without any other 
 stoppage than scoring the marks, he gradually reached up to twenty, 
 thirty, fifty, and once to eighty times, — or about five and a half miles 
 at a stretch. Often and often, when so running, has he recalled the 
 fact asserted by South American travellers, that there are runners 
 who attend on journeys, and keep up with a trotting horse for 
 fifteen or twenty miles without stopping ; and he felt of course, 
 in a better position to believe those extraordinary statements, than 
 those who would perhaps find it a hard task to walk five miles. 
 
 The author is quite satisfied that a vast majority of mankind greatly 
 abridge the term of life by inattention to air and exercise. 
 
 r2
 
 241 i I - TO ' ANTO 111. 
 
 Noii 61. Page 58. 
 
 I hi/ latent secrets, sleep, nor prince's dow'r 
 Nor philosophic eye of Inn can scan." 
 
 this mysterious subject of sleep and dreams, mankind, at the 
 end of 6000 years, as on the question of the Ideality of life, arc as 
 far from any conclusive theory, as were Adam and Eve themselves. 
 Notwithstanding all thai has been written and recorded on the sub- 
 ject of dreams, it may fairly be asserted thai nothing bul facts, and 
 a few genera] Laws, arc known. Instances of extraordinary discovery 
 
 lo8l property, <>r of premonitory warnings against evil, are too 
 numerous for then ptical to doubt. Laws also, with regard 
 
 to the condition and activity of the digestive powers,- are pretty 
 well ascertained. The nightmare is seldom found to attack those 
 who take light supper-, and are generally temperate in their 
 habits : and too much application to our subject of thought, is found 
 IV. quently to occasion dreams connected with whatever lias thus ex- 
 clusively occupied the thoughts. 
 
 Hut what is ship, and what are dreams? It is clear that the 
 moral principle during sleep is dead; for no jury could convict a 
 somnambulist of thefl or murder. How wonderful a condition then 
 is this of Bleep !- The body in perfeel health ; the heart, performing 
 all its functions with increased, rather than disturbed regularity; 
 and yet, irda the mind and spirit, of the responsible man to 
 
 all intents and purposes, a mere corpse. W ell might St. Paul, even in 
 a philosophical sense, say. "I protest I die daily;" and alas! how 
 unconscious are the generality of mankind of this diurnal death; — 
 -till more bo, of the awful lesson it ought to teach, that unless the 
 souFs account withits Maker bt settled each day of its mortal life, the 
 load of sin must inevitably ^o on accumulating. Unless the re- 
 
 itanl spirit hows each night at the name, and in the power of 
 Jesus, the alone Mediator and Reconciler, there can be no possibility 
 of peace or happiness. To suppose it otherwise, is to suppose it 
 possible for a prayt rlt is ( !hristian to exist :— a presumption which, on 
 its very front, is diametrically opposed to the religion and require- 
 ments of the gospel : and the covenant of salvation is not of casual 
 
 plication ; as though a man could say, "Oh yes! 'tis all true, and 
 will be so a year or two hence, when my care, and my enjoyments 
 will have lessened, and I can. with an easier mind, give myself to
 
 NOTES TO CANTO III. 245 
 
 these things." Alas ! if, this night, thou fool ! thy soul should be 
 required of thee, " where art thou in thy God's account ?" — and mark 
 the words, " should be required." — Could the gentleman and his lady 
 on whom a chimney fell a few winters ago ; — could the father and 
 son who, in the 1 presence of wife and mother, and of the gentleman 
 whom the author saw shortly after, were both in an instant struck 
 dead by lightning, — could these, and the ten thousand sudden deaths 
 which are continually recorded in the daily papers, have been ex- 
 pected, would the victims have thus boldly defied their God, and as- 
 sumed to themselves the right of living for two or three years to 
 come ? Ah ! assuredly no ! And what is to ensure to the author, or 
 to any one of his readers the certainty of life from one hour to 
 another ? — Truly with the awful evidences constantly occurring, that 
 " in the midst of life we are in death," does it indeed behove all " to live 
 each day as if it were their last." And is there anything gloomy in 
 this ? — Oh truth forbid ' — to those who love Him, their Creator, first — 
 Him last — and Him above all, — with their neighbour as themselves, 
 the Gospel is not a "cunningly devised fable;" nor, to the true 
 believer, the being absent from the body and present with the Lord 
 a gloomy thought, even though death itself wei - e known to await 
 them the next day. Of the true value, and at the same time extreme 
 uncertainty of man's tenure of life, the devout Archbishop of Cam- 
 bray (Fenelon) says ; " God, most liberal and bounteous of all other 
 things, teaches by the frugal dispensation of his providence, how 
 careful we ought to be to make a good use of time, because he never 
 gives us two moments together, nor grants us a second, till he has 
 withdrawn the first, still keeping the third in his own hand, so that 
 we are in perfect uncertainty whether we shall have it." 
 
 If, then, the author and his readers could view sleep as to all intents 
 and purposes, what it really is, — a literal death for the time being, — 
 and feel each night, as they retired to rest, the utter uncertainty 
 whether, by the providence or visitation of God, they should be 
 alive or dead in the morning, surely this mystery might be converted 
 into a daily blessing in a twofold sense —of refreshing the body, and 
 bringing peace to the soul.
 
 246 NOTES TO I WTo in. 
 
 Note 62. Page 59. 
 
 " Peace 
 . tnd silence reign ; save when some loud-shriek' d word 
 Of wakeful maniac's voice at distance heard, 
 Rings through the hall." 
 
 How little could the rising family, who were born and lived to 
 adult age, in this secluded mansion, have fancied the sounds that 
 now frequently break through the silence of night ! How little, 
 even those who spend their days in cities or large towns, can 
 imagine what it is to have their sleep broken, by some loud song or 
 malediction of an excited patient ! But seeing that such things 
 are — till those happier ages of the world arrive, when sin, and 
 Borrow, and madness shall cease, — it behoves Christians, who pro- 
 fess to "love their neighbour as themselves," not only to bear th e 
 knowledge of these sufferings, but to quicken their sympathies, by 
 occasionally witnessing them ; and in so far as either relative or friend 
 may be thus immured, to endeavour to soothe, as well as to extricate 
 and pray for them. 
 
 Note 63. Page 60. 
 
 ■• . /A / little ken ye, whom the busy world, 
 
 I a mammon's chace, or pleasure's devious maze, 
 aires not to feel restraint." 
 
 Of all privations, that of liberty is one of the severest that can 
 befal poor humanity; and whether confinement be the result of 
 disease or of crime, 'tis equally abhorrent to the feelings of a 
 rational being to be enclosed within locks and bolts, and watched 
 like an untamed animal. And yet such is precisely the case with a 
 criminal in a gaol, or a patient in an asylum ; and so long as both 
 these classes, lamentably numerous as they are, bear but a compara. 
 tively small proportion to the great bulk of any population who are 
 enjoying freedom of will, person and property, it seems almost a 
 hopeless effort to arouse the public mind to greater sympathy 
 towards their respective conditions and sufferings. 
 
 Elizabeth Fry, — improving upon the philanthropic labours of 
 her illustrious predecessor in the same field, John Howard, — by 
 ameliorating the condition of civil and criminal prisoners, deservedly 
 claims the gratitude of the British people ; — and happy indeed will 
 the author of the accompanying Poem deem himself, should his
 
 NOTES TO CANTO III. 247 
 
 feeble labours succeed in any degree, in aiding to arouse the public 
 attention to the subject of insanity. 
 
 Note 64. Page 61. 
 
 " And well I iveen those softly swelling lays, 
 
 That through the mansion s distant chambers flow 
 In heavenly strains." 
 
 One of the rooms at D** ****** in which noisy patients are confined 
 was on the basement story, and reached only by a door directly out, 
 or through the cellar passages ; and the effect of the singing on the 
 Sabbath evening, as heard in this room, is exceedingly delightful. 
 The author has often associated it in his own mind with the vesper 
 hymns of an abbey or a convent ; and however much the Protestant 
 may condemn those " religious houses," a Christian's taste for the 
 beautiful in harmony would often, there can be no doubt, be much 
 gratified in listening to the evening chaunts of his catholic brethren 
 and sisters. At D********, however, all is to his mind's content — 
 protestant. 
 
 Note 65. Page 62. 
 " And ah ! to you sin brought not woes like these : 
 Your course in glory, as in suffering, ran ; 
 No fevered brain, distorting all it sees, 
 E'er roused your foes, and broke each heav'n-born plan." 
 
 It is pretty well known that the Society, of which the author deems 
 it a privilege to be a member, object to the use of either vocal or 
 instrumental music : — without staying here to discuss what may be 
 seen fully treated in " Clarkson's Portraiture of Quakerism," he 
 would merely say, in his own defence, for having spoken in the warm 
 terms he has in the preceding note, that no one can judge another in 
 such a matter, who has not been subject to the same probation of 
 bonds, confinement, and privation of all social intercourse. Even 
 the worthies, Fox and Penn, alluded to in the foregoingr stanza, were 
 
 7 DO" 
 
 not denied the visits of their friends ; and the result to the captive 
 is the same, whether intercourse be denied or withheld, as in the 
 author's case, from the timidity of his friends needlessly fearing 
 to injure by an occasional call ; but the consequence was, that 
 while in York, the greatest kindness attended him throughout: 
 in Warwickshire, though domiciled within half a mile of a town
 
 NOTES TO CANTO [II. 
 
 where dwelt a considerable body of Friends, among whom he resided 
 upwards of twelve years on the most friendly terms, — for four 
 months, only four individuals had called on him; and of these, two 
 were the legal guardians of his person. 
 
 To return, however, for a moment, to the quotation at the head of 
 this note : although the " Solitaire" has again and again recalled the 
 cruel Bufferings of the early professors of the Society of Friends, and 
 been enabled to fortify his mind, in some degree, under his own all 
 hut solitary seclusion, he is quite sensible that the direct cause of 
 his confinement was widely different from theirs ; and that, however 
 much he may lie in controversy with those who thought him a fit 
 Bubjed for an asylum, and called in medical men to certify, on less 
 than a single hour's interview, that such was the case, he is still per- 
 E ctlj conscious that to sin, and sin only, can he finally trace those 
 sudden and inexplicable changes in the history of his mind. After a 
 period of twelve months in one instance, and of four years in another, 
 of tin most fearful and sinful depression, he suddenly arises out of 
 it, and becomes altogether a totally changed being. From silence 
 and sorrow, the soul emerges to freedom and irrepressible joy; 
 and from a state of intellectual weakness, bordering almost upon 
 imbecility, to one of unwonted energy and fluency. Does he speak 
 this in vanity or self-praise ? Oh ! no — he has still enough to lament 
 over, and to keep down every approach to undue exaltation of the 
 niere creature 
 
 Note <ib\ Page 63. 
 
 •■ ' Tis not the worldling's nor the tempter's plea 
 Can unempoison joys where jollity " — 
 
 How little of the abstractedly innocent amusements of life would 
 the Christian censor have to condemn, were it not for either excess in 
 their indulgence, or the collateral temptations by which they are too 
 often Burrounded. 
 
 It i-> indeed a libel upon the happy feelings of an enlightened 
 " Friend" to say, that because he is plain in his garb, and avoids the 
 theatre or the ball-room, he is therefore shut out from all the various 
 sources of pure and healthful enjoyment, which everywhere abound; 
 that because he or his wife may choose to array themselves in drab, 
 that therefore he would veil the whole face of nature in the same 
 dusky hue ;— or that he would silence the ten thousand songsters of 
 the grove.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO III. 249 
 
 It is, the author repeats, a gross libel upon the principles of the 
 Society of Friends, to say that they are averse either to colours or to 
 music in themselves. But, till fashion is deprived of her tyranny over 
 the minds and persons of mankind, and music can be acquired with- 
 out undue sacrifice of time and peace of mind — time, in its acquisition, 
 and peace, in the thousand and one conceits or envies to which skill 
 or awkwardness too often condemns the fair performers, in drawing- 
 room concerts and parties ; — then, and not till then, will the faithful 
 followers of Geo. Fox feel full freedom to extend the catalogue of 
 their already numerous sources of enjoyment in the regions of art, 
 science, literature, and travelling, by adding the world's more 
 doubtful and dissipating pleasures. 
 
 The unquestioned object of every human being, in every pursuit 
 in which he engages, is to be, in his notion, the happier for it. 
 The author of these desultory, and it may be to some, too ser- 
 monizing notes, is not a child in these matters. As heretofore stated, 
 he has proved the world, and found it miserably wanting ; and there- 
 fore is it that, with the most perfect confidence, he suffers the above 
 lines to stand, strong as is the implied condemnation of all pleasures, 
 on which the divine benediction cannot be asked. 
 
 Our Saviour objected not to sit and to eat with publicans and 
 sinners ; but it was to do them good — to point out their sins, and to 
 call their souls from the degrading love of mere sensual enjoyment, 
 to the pure and elevated love of himself and his Father in heaven. 
 Truly may it be said that the chaste, and learned, and sanctified 
 pleasures of such men as Bishops Porteus and Heber, the christian 
 legislator Wilberforce, or the scientific Friend William Allen, are 
 indeed "feebly, vainly imitated" by the rout, the ball, the opera, 
 or the gambling-house of fashionable life. 
 
 Note 67- Page 63. 
 
 " That in a ball-room's glare, the secret chide, 
 Of conscience would annoy his presence so, 
 That your rare bliss would be a veritable woe." 
 
 Here again the author is not asserting the crude speculations of a 
 mere anchorite : — but can solemnly attest, from his own experience, 
 that such must inevitably be the case with any young or old pro-
 
 N0TB8 TO CANTO III. 
 
 lYwor nf true Quakerism, who dared to trust him or herself within 
 tin- atmosphere of the world's dissipations. The question at issue 
 then is simply this: — has the experience of two hundred years 
 done nothing in proving that the Society is right in avoiding these 
 ensnaring amusements. With all that may he alleged against the 
 weakness, the inconsistency, and the dissensions among themselves, 
 i> there not still enough of substantial good fame attached to the pro- 
 ton of Quakerism, to demonstrate that not to the men or the women, 
 who hold its name, but to the principle* which have gathered them 
 into a community more strictly separate from all others than any 
 that have cither preceded or followed it, this good report is to he as- 
 eril' No one who looks into Barclay or Penn, among their own 
 
 writers, or Clarkson the delineator of their modern protraiture, — 
 among others.— need he at a moment's loss to understand why the 
 iting •■ bliss" of the worldling would be "veritable woe" with a 
 sincere professor of Christianity as held by the Society of Friends. 
 
 The author may a- well here confess, that he has additional plea- 
 sure and purpose in thus dwelling upon those principles, because, if 
 life and health he spared, it is his firm intention, at a future period, 
 to enter upon the subject in a much more decided, and probably 
 unlooked-for, manner. 
 
 Note 68. Page 03. 
 
 " And 7jou repair 
 To luted couch with undiminished praise 
 
 Of God — not man — a miracle attends your ways." 
 
 It is an infallible test of the allowableness of any given enjoyment, 
 where the individual can calmly, deliberately, and conscientiously 
 declare, that the higher privileges and more important duties of his 
 allotted Btation in life, are enhanced rather than lessened, by the 
 indulgence of that enjoyment, whatever it be. But with his 
 knowledge of the world, and of those who surrender themselves 
 to its dissipations, the author would at once ask, is this, — in the 
 instance of the four o'clock a. m. retirer to rest after the excite- 
 ment of a ball, a rout, or a concert, — to say nothing of the theatre, 
 the opera, the gambling-house — is this, he asks, possible? Such a 
 being would indeed be the 
 
 " Faultless monster which the world ne'er saw."
 
 251 
 
 NOTES TO CANTO IV. 
 
 Note 69. Page 67. 
 
 " To sketch the features, and prolong the fame 
 Of mimic kmgs ; — since harmless is their pride-fed flame." 
 
 In almost all cases it may, the author has no hesitation in assert- 
 ing, be safely affirmed — that mental disease is to be traced, directly 
 or ultimately, to that morbid self-importance — or in one word, pride, 
 which is so invariably showing itself in some form or other within 
 the walls of a mad-house, as well as in the world. One man fancies 
 himself a king; — another a field-marshal; — a third a judge; — and 
 here and there one assumes to be the second Christ. Have not all 
 these imaginings their origin in that self-born pride which attaches 
 to every unregenerate son and daughter of Adam ? W ho has ever 
 heard of an insane patient fancying himself a little child — and 
 willingly submitting to be taught and led like an infant ? or that he 
 or she was a decided Christian, and in every thing evinced a dispo- 
 sition to forego their own will, and to act strictly up to the blessed 
 Redeemer's injunction of taking up the daily cross and following 
 him ? — Oh no ! — if it were so, the sooner the world at large had the 
 benefit of their child-like and Christian integrity of conduct as an 
 ensample, the better. It is because men and women think too much 
 — or, in some sense or other, are, to a morbid excess, proud of — them- 
 selves, that it becomes, in certain cases, necessary to restrain the 
 violence of their distorted reasonings and self-imagined power.
 
 252 NOTES TO ( INTO IV. 
 
 Note 70. Page 68. 
 
 •■ /'. m trate 
 'Hi, tad seclusion*! where life's current flows, 
 
 In drear monotonifs benumbing slate — 
 Scenes thai the hand of Fuseli might celebrate." 
 
 Whoever took 8ufficien1 interest in the painful subject of public 
 raid private asylums, to glance over the result of a parliamentary 
 enquiry many years ago, in the Bhape of voluminous evidence from 
 medical and other gentlemen connected with these establishments, 
 might have seen enough to Bhake the strongest nerve, and to raise 
 many an aspiration of the deepesl sympathy at the narration on oath 
 of the abhorrent cruelties then inflicted upon tlie Buffering and ncg- 
 Lected inmates of such places as Old bedlam. St. Luke's, and not ;i 
 feu private establishments : amongsl which the one referred to in the 
 
 text was included. 
 
 It was mainly by the individual and persevering exertions of 
 Samuel Puke, of York, that the long indulged misdeeds of its County 
 asylum were brought to light, and the present reformed state <>\' 
 things there secured 
 
 Acts of parliament, subsequent to the enquiry above referred to, 
 greatly changed the whole face of the subject ; and owing to the 
 salutary restraint under which all such plact - are kept by the ]>< ri- 
 odieal visits of appointed magistrates, it is scarcely possible that 
 England can again go back to the worse than inquisition-like barba- 
 rities of thirty years ago. 
 
 If the author of the present volume had not, after a life of strange 
 and fearful vicissitude, arrived at the same point of feeling, and en- 
 tire reliance on the immutable w Isdom of Prov idence implied in that 
 line of the i"" I Young 
 
 •■ For all I bless thee, most for the severe!'' 
 
 it would have been difficult for him to have recalled his own Buffer- 
 ings at l; ***** i House, with ut exciting more than ordinary 
 indignation against its proprietors. But alas! the system — then all 
 but unusual would shield any enormities. Suffice it to say that the 
 hand that now u rite-,— u itli it- fellow -hand, — and with the feet, have 
 been chained for days and wei ks together in solitary confinement — and 
 occasionally also, by a longer chain to a staple in the floor in the com- 
 mon day-room of some twenty or thirty other patients. So also, at
 
 NOTES TO CANTO IV. 253 
 
 night, have the metal handcuffs been used, where now, under simi- 
 lar circumstances, every species of coercion would be altogether 
 abandoned. 
 
 The utter want of classification too, and the abhorrent scenes to 
 which the eye was frequently witness in the treatment of other cases, 
 rendered the chances of recovery tenfold greater ; but of course, as 
 the history of nineteen asylums in twenty will prove, the longer a 
 patient remained, the more profitable was he to the proprietor. 
 
 The author, for several months, continued getting worse and worse, 
 that is, more impatient and excited, and his friends were at length 
 compelled to try a change; and at the Friends' retreat at York, in less 
 than a fortnight after his removal, he was restored, though his 
 recovery was followed by a long period of fearful depression. 
 
 He has often found it extort expressions of surprise, when — though 
 rarely done — he has alluded to these past scenes of his painful his- 
 tory, — to find that he so distinctly remembered the facts of which he 
 was induced to speak. 
 
 It is this circumstance, reader, that induces the author still to 
 doubt whether his own case has always been in the ordinary sense 
 of the word, altogether one of positive insanity. He is, however, 
 willing to admit, that in that period of afflictive dispensation, an 
 asylum was the most welcome, as well as salutary, retreat from the 
 gaze of an unsympathizing world. 
 
 Should the present volume prove, by the blessing of Providence, 
 in any degree the feeble instrument of attracting a more vivid and 
 decided attention to the subject generally, the author will feel that 
 his sufferings have not been permitted to befal him in vain. As- 
 suredly, on this point of memory and self-cognizance of all that has 
 passed, both at the house near London, at York, and at D********, the 
 author's recollection is, in the minutest points, clear and vivid in the 
 extreme ; — although, since the former, more than twenty years have 
 elapsed. 
 
 Note 71. Page 70. 
 
 " Come S******** then, since death hath sealed thy doom, — 
 Those oft-told tales of battle now are o'er." 
 
 Never can the author forget the tall, spare, but perfectly soldier- 
 like figure of poor Col. S of the Guards :— a child in heart,
 
 ITOTBS TO CANTO 1\. 
 
 but a hcr<> in art ; and even then, at the time the author knew him, 
 with a mind shatti red t<> childishness, tin re were occasional gleams 
 of b mosl amiable character. True it is, that when crossed or ex- 
 cited, the voice of fearful power sad command was soon raised; but 
 
 under ordinary circumstances, be would either stroll about ihe 
 ground-, hobbling from paralysis, or sit by the Bre and talk over his 
 \ rae dreams of Field Marshals and Generals with as much fluency 
 bis poor Stricken tongue could utter. He was, however, occasion- 
 ally sensible enough to recount to the author, — who sometimes offered 
 him an arm along the terrace of their pleasure-ground, — the sieges and 
 battles in which he bad engaged under Wellington in the Peninsular 
 war. 
 
 Colonel had seen much of high life, and often dined at 
 St. James's : and had so powerful a constitution, that it is asserted he 
 had been in the daily habit of drinking from two to three hottles of 
 wine for twenty years, and knew nothing of ill health till the period 
 of retribution or penalty for all this indulgence came suddenly upon 
 him. and by a paralytic stroke, reduced him, at once, to second child- 
 hood both of body and mind. 
 
 Oil ! what a sermon might many a gay and light-hearted officer, 
 indulging at luxurious messes up and down the kingdom, have 
 read in contemplating, as the author has done, the melancholy 
 
 fate of Col S .' He died a few months after the author's 
 
 liberation. 
 
 Note 7'2. Page 75. 
 
 " '/'Im/ noble figun brave — " 
 
 This gentleman had, like the colonel, seen much, both of society 
 and of the world, and had Bpent some years in the East. In his 
 friendship the author experienced much to soothe and charm away 
 the impatience of his confinement j and there was much, both in 
 his friend's case and history to do t his. He had, at the time of the 
 author's arrival, been entirely recovered for Borne years, but being 
 partial to tl and unwilling again to trust himself amid the 
 
 contingent excitement, of the world, he was permitted to retain his 
 room, and continue as a free boarder, with a pa— kej , bo that he was 
 under no sort of control, save that of conforming to the hours of 
 meals and rest.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO IV. 255 
 
 In his society the winter of 1834-5 passed rapidly away, and in 
 the cricket field without, and chess board within, the " Solitaire" still 
 owes to him a debt of no light gratitude for the instructions and 
 practice he derived during their sojourn together. But knowing his 
 extreme susceptibility, the author forbears to utter all that his grate- 
 ful feelings would dictate. 
 
 Note 73. Page 79. 
 
 " But who is this — the son of Smeaton's friend, 
 
 The child of parents, loving as upright ; 
 O'er whom the weight of twenty years now bend 
 His prisoned form ?" 
 
 The case of this gentleman is one of the most remarkable that the 
 author, in twenty-five years of experience on the subject, has met with. 
 Up to a comparatively late period, the appearances of disease were 
 in a great degree regular ; — that is, a period of three or four weeks of 
 mental aberration, was succeeded by about the same interval of 
 perfect sanity ; — and in this way the case had continued for upwards 
 of twenty years ; and on the author's release in the spring of 1835, it 
 became a matter of conscience with him, on journeying into the south 
 of England, to call and give the best report he could to the parents and 
 family of the gentleman in question. 
 
 His habits, when well, are quiet and inoffensive ; — and his peculiar 
 bent of mind seems to be the accumulation of books; — to the 
 purchase of which the greater portion of his spare resources are 
 devoted. His time, during these lucid intervals, is almost constantly 
 occupied in reading ; but he readily enters into some of the usual 
 amusements within doors and without; — the bagatelle board, and 
 the quoit-ground especially. But the secret of the extraordinary 
 alternation, for so short a period as two or three weeks, of disease 
 and self-possession, remains yet unravelled. 
 
 Note 74. Page 79. 
 " Pass on to him, that youthful visage wan." 
 The individual here alluded is the son of the Risrht Hon.
 
 NOTES TO < \vr<> IV. 
 
 late Governor of ; and a more interesting bul mournful in 
 
 of an Imbecile mind can hardly lie conceived. Tall and Blight in 
 person, with ;i beautifully formed head, and line prominent features, 
 tin- youthful patient might be seen Btrolling hatless among the 
 Bhrubsof the terrace; and from his fondness for the Bible, — the only 
 book he ever looked into. — the author often conceived of him as being 
 already almost an inhabitant of another world. 
 
 Thin was however one game, cricket, in which, at one time, he 
 joined the other patients, and greatly excelled, particularly as a 
 howler: his running (for he took a long distance for discharging 
 tlie ball), and the uncommon energy of his look and manner while 
 in tlie act of howling, were \ery striking. 
 
 lie had gone out in early life with his father to India, and was 
 in commission in the cavalry. But the obvious imperfection of the 
 intellectual faculties more and more developed itself on the return 
 of the family to Europe, and it was found necessary to place him 
 in seclusion. 
 
 Note 75. Page 81. 
 
 "Another there is seen with fixed eye." 
 
 This was a singular case; — a stout person of middle age, and a 
 member of the Society of Friends. He possessed originally some 
 talent for satire and ridicule, and for humorous sketchings with his 
 pencil, in which he still occasionally amused himself when the 
 author was hi- companion. The case appeared a very hopeless one. 
 He would stand or sit for hours in one spot, and sometimes with a 
 fearfully tremulous motion of the body. Though often talking 
 to himself, and tolerably submissive to the ordinary duties of the 
 attendant-, he never entered into conversation with any one, and 
 would refuse the hand even of his wife herself, when she came to 
 \ i.-it him. 
 
 Xoti: 76. Page 82. 
 
 '• Yet, one aged man, well skilled in prayer, 
 OfFrana or Spain's mellifluous tongue." 
 
 This is the brother of an individual well known in the scientific
 
 NOTES TO CANTO IV. 257 
 
 world. He had been an inmate many years, and was an accom- 
 plished scholar ; nor were the evidences of insanity, at first sight, 
 at all obvious. Has subsequently left the Institution, and resides in 
 the neighbourhood. 
 
 Note 77. Page 82. 
 
 " Another linguist too, was suffering sore, 
 The fearful ills of madness — " 
 
 An amiable and well educated young man, destined for the 
 medical profession. The case for twelve months appeared almost 
 hopeless ; but the author is rejoiced since to learn that the individual 
 had been cured, and restored to his friends and to usefulness in 
 society. 
 
 Note 78. Page 83. 
 
 .-. 
 
 " One other yet must clitm a transient glance, 
 Known years agone to him who strings the lay." 
 
 This, like the three preceding ones, was a member of the Society 
 of Friends. Had been an inmate of the same establishment many 
 years before, and had subsequently passed eleven years in America, 
 of which three or four were spent in different asylums there. In 
 this case also it would be difficult, on slight observation, to discover 
 sufficient ground for his detention ; but the whole history of his 
 life, for twenty years past, proves that there is a certain degree of 
 distortion, as well as morbid impatience, in his views of life and of 
 his own qualifications, which renders it exceedingly doubtful, whether, 
 if released, he would possess sufficient self-government to pursue, 
 with unflinching patience, any one occupation. 
 
 Note 79. Page 84. 
 
 " First in rank, the Captain, muse, 
 Pourtray ; he who with Lyttleton would draw 
 The vengeful sword." 
 
 A victim, so far as the author is able to learn, of some law or 
 
 s
 
 NOTES TO CANTO IV. 
 
 chancery suit, he being now under (he cognizance of the head of the 
 latter court The case is a remarkable one in many particulars. In 
 middle life, excellent health, and, excepl when inning some angry 
 order as to personal conveniences, not the slightest evidence of 
 anxiety or depression. As soon as he enters the day-room in the 
 morning — in the scene of out-door exercise — or wherever he may he, 
 scarcely ten minutes passes in silence ; his memory, stored with almost 
 as many substantives as a dictionary, is constantly stringing them 
 together on the most heterogeneous subjects; and in this self-cogi- 
 tating, self-talking mood, his days and years are passing on with 
 little hope of any favourable change. 
 
 This individual is recently deceased ; — about four years subsequent 
 to the writing of the above. 
 
 Note 80. Page 84 
 
 •• But who, with placid look and soothing voice, 
 I hbending stands so firm and constant /lure?" 
 
 Another chronic, and it is to be feared, hopeless case. He, like the 
 preceding patient, is frequently uttering his voice aloud, but it is 
 always in the language of prayer; and both in the large day-room 
 and in the garden, certain spots seem sacred to this exercise. The 
 poor man's thoughts are constantly recurring to home ; and his prayers, 
 morning, noon, and night, are but supplication for benediction on 
 his family. To his other afflictions great deafness is added. His 
 natural disposition seems to be love and meekness itself. But so 
 many years have elapsed since his separation from the world, that 
 scarcely any hope remains of a permanent change for the better. 
 Although much older, there is something in the case which reminds 
 the Author of the young traveller to India, noticed before. 
 
 Not i 81. Page 85. 
 
 " And hi', that younger captive" 
 
 This young man the author had known in the world from his boy- 
 hood, as an active junior clerk in a Solicitor's office; but who, from 
 dabbling in railroads, and possibly, from marrying a lady of some
 
 NOTES TO CANTO IV. 259 
 
 property, became overset, and after a seclusion of two years, little 
 progress seems yet to have been effected towards recovery. An over- 
 weening conceit of himself, and a most supercilious bearing towards 
 those around him, continue to form the main features of as painful an 
 instance of self-love as it has been the author's lot to witness; — and 
 yet mixed up w T ith certain regularly performed religious duties, such 
 as kneeling at one end of the day-room the moment he enters it in 
 the morning, followed by reading the Scriptures. 
 
 It is, as the reader may suppose, a mournful spectacle to witness a 
 young man in the flower of his age, in good bodily health, and mar- 
 ried only a few months before his confinement, thus lost to his friends, 
 and to all usefulness in society. 
 
 Note 82. Page 85. 
 
 " But whose the form dejected, bending low, 
 That erst ivas cheerful as the bird of morn ?'' 
 
 This is one of the few cases of criminal lunatics, whose lives have 
 been compounded for by perpetual confinement, such as Martin, the 
 incendiary of York cathedral. 
 
 Although ignorant of the particular circumstances of the case, 
 the author finds that this individual, now midway between fifty 
 and sixty, has already endured an incarceration in a similar estab- 
 lishment elsewhere of twenty years. So little was there of the 
 appearance of insanity, that for the first month or two the author 
 was incredulous on the subject, and concluded it must have been an 
 act of mercy on the part of the jury who committed him, to accom- 
 pany their verdict with the plea of insanity. A recent attack, 
 however, fully evinced that the latent seed of disease had only lain 
 dormant ; and that even now, although pretty much restored again, 
 the case is one which requires careful vigilance. 
 
 This also, like the preceding, is a melancholy case. To be in 
 daily companionship with a fellow-being of respectability, and still 
 in the full vigour of life, thus consigned to interminable bondage, 
 has been the source of many painful reflections, and has often drawn 
 forth the silent aspiration of gratitude, even under the severest pri- 
 vations, that the author's sufferings had at least the prospect of a 
 comparatively speedy termination. 
 
 s '1
 
 NOTES TO CANTO V 
 
 Noti 83. Page 94. 
 
 • / - ;,.,. ■ can weep e'en while this lay In sings, 
 I- r 'inii/li his window now, theplatntivi airs 
 
 (if hum', song, Ophelia's madness brings, 
 To mi mory's i or." 
 
 'I'm window of the author's cell-like chamber, was immediately 
 over the <.1< >< >r into what is termed the refractory room — a very neces- 
 sary apartmenl in all asylums, and where of course only the worst 
 - are confined, and these only so lon^ as may be necessary. The 
 above stanza was penned at a moment when the vacant, hut harmo- 
 nious sounds of a female voice below were echoing in his ear, and 
 did, from a similarity of voice and intonation, strongly remind the 
 author of witnessing in his early and dissipated days, the perform- 
 ance of the painfully interesting character of Ophelia. 
 
 Notb84 Page 95. 
 
 thl who comes thus in laughing mood attired 
 II ith echoing void and footsteps bounding on?" 
 
 This lady the wife of M. P. for , is in the 
 
 rigour of life — the mother of children jusl rising into womanhood — 
 and is herself an accomplished woman, — mistress of French, Italian, 
 Spanish, with some knowledge of German— fond of music — and 
 generally with a buoyancy of spirits that seems to be the only cha- 
 racteristic of disease.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO V. 261 
 
 The author occasionally conversed with her, and received also 
 many acts of kindness in the loan of books, grammars, &c. Has 
 subsequently left the spot, but continues under private care. 
 
 Note 85. Page 96. 
 
 " But whose that stately mien and antique dress ?" 
 
 The individual here alluded to, was of a commanding person, but 
 extravagantly outre in her dress, and though quite the lady in her 
 personal deportment to the opposite sex, was one of the most noisy 
 and abusive patients in the house. 
 
 Note 86. Page 97. 
 
 " At yonder window see a dame presents, 
 Her portly front." 
 
 The sister of a Doctor of Divinity, and so exceedingly secluded in 
 
 her habits, that during the author's residence at , he seldom 
 
 saw her but standing at the window of her sitting room in the front 
 of the building. She might occasionally, but rarely, be seen pacing 
 the grounds with an attendant. The peculiar nature of her afflictive 
 separation from society the author did not learn. 
 
 Note 87. Page 98. 
 
 " First then we sketch with gentlest hand of love, 
 That fated fair, whom twice thine eye hath sought." 
 
 " A highly accomplished female, most respectably connected, and 
 formerly a governess, now middle-aged, and sadly reduced in circum- 
 stances. In her lucid intervals, she is in all respects pleasing 
 and amiable, and lady-like in her manners ; — but when labouring 
 under her insane delusions, disagreeable and repulsive, — taking a 
 dislike to those around her, fancying they are applying leeches, 
 snakes, &c. that the floor is giving way beneath her, voices speaking, 
 and servants annoying her : — was first confined in July 1835, and left
 
 I - TO CANT') \ . 
 
 about fifteen months after, hut has been obliged to return in a worse 
 
 her « idowed mother, B pleasing and wonderful lady, retaining 
 
 all her faculties at the age of eighty-four, being afraid longer to 
 
 live with her child, who should have been the solace and prop of 
 
 her old age.'' — 
 
 Extract from J. E. Us Crrespondence. 
 
 Note 88. Page 99. 
 
 Vext, to /In minstrel's tablet now comes forth 
 . I youngi r fait ." 
 
 •• \ genteel young lady, somewhat under thirty, and of respectable 
 family— her manners pleasing, and, when convalescent, an agreeable 
 ipanion ;— but in her delirium one of the most abusive and re- 
 in^ patients. Came firsl in December, L835, and left the follow- 
 ing April, much improved ;— but relapsed in .July, and the attack 
 much worse than the first; so that for many months the ease ap- 
 peared hopeless heT language and demeanour so awfully shocking 
 a- to require solitary confinement. In less than twelve months she 
 was again restored to her family, but her general health very de- 
 licate." - -Ibid. 
 
 Note 89. Page 100. 
 
 " But mini/, ,is nil were these ; — the next, alas ■' 
 To reason lost, the sad repentant wife.'' 
 
 " This lady arrived in October, K56, but owing to the illness of 
 her father, was removed in December, and reached home only the 
 evening preceding his death; — which event threw her back, and a 
 few day-- sufficed for her own entreaty to be restored to J)***+****^ 
 II t husband has also recently deceased at another asylum. Her 
 constant idea is, that her wickedness has been so great, that the 
 world and every thing in it i-~ destroyed. At her earnest request 
 the history of her life was patiently listened to, and from observation 
 of her character, the account seemed a true one. Said she had been 
 deceitful from a child, fond of dress and appearance; — had made a 
 profession of religion, but it was a hypocritical one; — married with 
 very little sincere regard on either side, money being the object of one
 
 NOTES TO CANTO V. 263 
 
 and a name that of the other. Her husband steady, industrious and 
 money-loving; while she, in her own statement, was perpetually 
 wounding his feelings by drawing comparisons, &c. till at last he 
 was fairly driven out of his mind. Her lamentations are truly pain- 
 ful. She now thinks herself in another state of existence ; indeed 
 this was her impression from the first. There are traces of her having 
 been a very well-informed woman, and received a superior educa- 
 tion. Although on friendly, if not intimate, terms when convalescent, 
 latterly she frequently has not known me. Alas ! how true it is, 
 that ' all is vanity.' " — Ibid. 
 
 Note 90. Page 101. 
 
 " But whose yon beauteous form, so graced in youth 
 With loveliest smiles, and looks so passing fair 7" 
 
 " A beautiful girl of about six-and-twenty, repeatedly confined in 
 other asylums ; — and formerly addicted to rhyming, and still occa- 
 sionally so ; but seems rather idiotic than otherwise ; will sit for 
 hours with her eyes shut, lie on the floor, refuse to walk or dress, 
 &c. ; — when better, she is amiable and affectionate, converses cheer- 
 fully and rationally, and will then sew, which for neatness might be 
 shown at an exhibiton." — Ibid. 
 
 Note 91. Page 102. 
 
 " Another comes, — a matron too, but quick 
 To search out faults. ." 
 
 " A lady whose character, after a seclusion of three months, be- 
 came as totally changed as could be conceived possible. At first she 
 was extremely loquacious, and criticising pronunciation, dress, lan- 
 guage, &c. — indeed nothing could be done so perfectly as this para- 
 gon would have had it to be. She wrote much, both verse and prose ; 
 — the former tame, but her letters displayed happy ideas and culti- 
 vated taste. She gradually became calmer, till at length so quiet, 
 that a stranger would have thought her most reserved and retiring 
 — thus from a troublesome complainant, she became most thankful 
 for even the smallest attention. She left with affecting expressions of
 
 NOTES TO ' AVl'o V. 
 
 andaff which," adds the author's admirable corre- 
 
 gpond ! must ever remember with pleasure and satisfaction." 
 
 Non 92. Page [02. 
 
 '•:-/. fair one ! lovely, but alas ! 
 I)i i j> plungt d in tli abyss of madness and of woe, 
 . tpproaches last." 
 
 ■■ A truly interesting, us well as lovely young lady, who, after being 
 
 by a nurse at home for some weeks, was conveyed to the 
 
 asylum. Her fancy was, that everything she saw was her own — 
 
 laying claim to many of the treasured possessions of my room: 'they 
 
 are her-,' Bhe 'and have been taken oul of her drawers.' The 
 
 is a distressing one; being a most affectionate wife and mother, 
 
 and feeling the separation from them keenly, although at home quite 
 
 reable. Her mother died of same disease, since she has 
 
 a here: Bhe sings and plays dehghtfully." Ibid. 
 
 Note 93. Page 105. 
 
 hnl in /In fni a r, \ neal, 
 That 'ruth,—' tin ■/// > L , of nil doth right'— shall erst n real." 
 
 " With this, - ' the Last of the preceding eases, says the highly gifted 
 friend to whom the Author is indebted for much of the present canto, 
 
 and while my heart aches in the 
 mplation of these paralysed ornaments of society, my spiritual 
 faith tells me the 'Judge of all the earth must do right ." " 
 
 Mas! howmuch of time and mental talent have been wasted in 
 fruit! - on the origin and continuance of moral evil. 
 
 We know by painful experience its universal prevalence; but we 
 know aNo that Christ " came not to call the righteous but sinners to 
 repentance;" and thai "to as many as believe on Him he giveth 
 " power to become the sons of God." And the Author believes with 
 unshaken confidence, and from an experience of five-and-twenty 
 cases of insanity, himself included, that it is Christ alone 
 that can reallv effect the cure of all mental maladies. He owes it
 
 NOTES TO CANTO V. 265 
 
 to truth to say, that in the whole course of his observation he has 
 never met with one single instance of a really pious humble-minded 
 man or woman continuing the subject of confinement. Therefore, 
 most confidently, with his endeared friend and correspondent, does 
 he cordially unite in the conviction that some future day will clearly 
 reveal that " the Judge of all'' hath done — is doing — and will ever 
 " do right !" mysterious as may seem much that is passing in the 
 world around. 
 
 Note 94. Page 106. 
 " Could mark the sinner, icho, with voice of sai?it." 
 
 The Author forbears to indulge in more than a passing allusion to 
 the newspaper facts which are open to all, and which even within 
 the last few years have recorded the abhorrent sins of ministers of 
 the Gospel, proved to have been guilty of adulterous intrigues; but 
 he feels impelled to dwell for one moment on another instance of 
 wholesale hypocrisy and lust, in which a pretended prophet and 
 preacher of some new sect, blasphemously daring to call himself a 
 Christian, had seduced several young females, and that, too, on the 
 impious assumption that his command justified them. 
 
 Oh ! ye libellers of the religion of a Kempis and Fenelon, who 
 have unblushingly charged upon the Catholics of Maynooth practices 
 which are as repugnant to the true faith of the Romish church as to 
 your own loud-tongued professions, where was your artillery of just 
 indignation against the abuse of this Protestant confessional, when 
 the trial of the wretch above alluded to was blazoned forth ? 
 
 What are the assumed abuses of (rightly used) one of the most 
 important and efficient duties of the Catholic priest, compared to 
 the actual abominations of this imp of Satan ! — this flagrant 
 libel upon that gospel which declares, in the language of its 
 divine Author, — " he that looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath 
 committed adultery with her already in his heart."
 
 EfOTBS TO CANTO V. 
 
 Notb 95. Page 108. 
 
 " Snjl't r to i scape the heavier guilt, — 
 ' i In U-born crime ■'" 
 
 As a loyal Bubject of a christian Queen, the Author is exceedingly 
 reluctant to give utterance to remarks A'hich imply reflection upon the 
 authorities of a nation so renowned for its civil and religious liberty ; 
 but, in the language of the text, he cannot forbear expressing his 
 decided conviction, that as regards the rich and the poor, the laws of 
 tlii- country are not impartial ; and one evidence, among others he 
 would adduce, is in reference to the sin of seduction : — an offence 
 more especially chargeable upon the wealthier classes; and which, in 
 it- degree of moral turpitude, he cannot but view as exceeding even 
 that of either the burglar or highwayman ; and in its collateral effects 
 1.1" peace-destroying injury to families, far, very far outreaching the 
 evil sustained by any loss of property. 
 
 It is easy to resort to the unmanly defence of a woman's weakness, 
 in Layingherself open, by gradual indiscretion, to the charge of being 
 the tempter; and a jury is never slow to give the accused every 
 advantage which the evidence may show of this nature; but surely 
 a christian legislature should act upon the principle, that man being 
 the stronger of the two, is unquestionably the aggressor. Why also, 
 as the crime is a personal one, the offender is not made to suffer by 
 incarceration or pillory, or some physical penalty, the author is at 
 a loss to conceive. 
 
 The passion of love, like gold, when under righteous control, is one 
 of the most delight ftil and valuable of all earthly possessions ; but when 
 left to mere Belfisb indulgence, only Less than money, "the root of 
 all evil." The author dares to express his conviction, that the fact 
 cf Living under a Government expressly conducted upon christian 
 principles, is too much lost sight of; nor can he for one instant 
 conceive the impracticability of enacting laws which shall quadrate 
 with the precepts of the gospel. The revolting cry of the 
 myriad freethinking spirits of the present day, shews most awfully 
 how Little they know of that Christ whose name they profess, and 
 who in John viii. 32, declares, that "the truth shall make them 
 free." It is these pseudo -patriots and sinful men that are the real 
 slaves of impatience and discontent.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO VI. 
 
 Note 96. Page 114. 
 
 "But who the mystic union shall declare, 
 Of soul with body ?" 
 
 The Author has not committed this, it may be thought, desultory- 
 volume on the deeply but painfully interesting subject of insanity to 
 the press, without again attentively perusing one of the most elabo- 
 rate compilations of the last ten years ; and the result of plodding 
 through upwards of 700 pages of causes, treatment, cases, and opinions, 
 leaves him with the unaltered conviction that the science of medicine 
 has, as yet, done comparatively little or nothing for this class of 
 suffering humanity. 
 
 The prolix digest of the thousand and one authors who have 
 treated it, leaves the question of its seat, cause, and specific remedy 
 just where it found it. With tenfold conviction does the minstrel 
 rise from the perusal of such works, assured that Christ, and Christ 
 alone, — sought with the singleness and simplicity of a child, — will 
 be found the only true Physician of Souls ! 
 
 Note 97. Page 115. 
 " Fes, he alone, the sinless Jesus ! knew 
 
 Exemption from the curse: — none other, none 
 Have sin eschewed." 
 
 At all risks of the neglect which the sermonizing character of some 
 of these notes may entail upon them, the Author would fain again 
 call the attention of his more patient and thoughtful reader to the 
 unquestionable fact, that no instance has ever been recorded of 
 insanity arising from a pure, single-eyed obedience to the precepts 
 and example of Christ. All supposed religious mania has resulted 
 from the weakness and self-willedness of the individual, and not 
 from a child-like reception of the Gospel, in the simplicity of true 
 faith.
 
 NOTES TO I AMU vi. 
 
 Non 98. P ■■■ 1 17. 
 
 ■■ . /,/. . to himst If a miracle ! since ih 
 
 Arose so suddenly — as ' n hour — 
 
 Tin tongue of Franct ." 
 
 The Author can personally set his seal to the fact, that an extra- 
 ordinary impetus is sometimes given to the intellectual faculties 
 when under the influence of joyous excitement. Both in 1834, and 
 in the Spring of the present year, 1841, his fondness for the French 
 language returned, almost as by intuition ; and he could read it 
 with as mueh facility, ami even greater delight, than his own 
 language. Hut not only was there a reaction in the mental powers, 
 as manifested in this instance, hut it was also the case with regard 
 to the memory generally ; and demonstrated that the whole intellec- 
 tual apparatus had undergone a sudden and m;ir\ellous change: 
 how happy that change, from the morbid depression under which 
 his spirits had so long sunk, he need hardly assure the reader of 
 -ibility ! 
 
 Non:!'!*. Page 120. 
 
 " Great are the mysteries that mock our gaze, — 
 Of all. as that which Paid hath erst declared" 
 
 Not only of that mystery "godliness," spoken of by the Apostle 
 as " :_• nay it he said that it mocks our human gaze ; but of all 
 
 relating to the powers of mind, and their inscrutable 
 relation to the physical condition of the body, we must, surely, in the 
 finite ca] l our faculties, be content to admit our profound 
 
 ignorance. 
 
 From the dangerous tendency of those notions set forth as the 
 dogmas of materialism on the one hand, to the fanciful, though in 
 many respects, profound conceptions of the ideal Berkeley on the 
 other,— all, all demonstrates how vain are the boldest efforts of 
 human confidence or human sagacity to develope the latent secrets 
 
 of lib' soul.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO VI. 269 
 
 Note 100. Page 119. 
 
 " Say, then, thou Solo?i of this boasting age 
 
 Whether thy name, like B*******'s loudly sung." 
 
 Since penning the Note 44, p. 228, the author has had the oppor- 
 tunity of bringing the subject of that note personally before Lord 
 B** *****. Having the pleasure of meeting him on a point of no 
 slight importance to the moral well-being of their mutual country — 
 the author did not feel satisfied to leave the presence of this dis- 
 tinguished individual, without pressing home the question, as to 
 the truth or falsehood of the charge adverted to in the previous note. 
 It is, therefore, but due to that powerful Mentor of the Upper House 
 to state — that his meaning was intended to convey only the senti- 
 ment, that man was not more responsible to his fellow-man for his 
 religious faith, than for the colour of his hair or the height of 
 his stature ;— and that, in no sense, did he (Lord B*******) wish 
 to imply that man was not responsible to God for the conduct of his 
 understanding ; or the blessings or errors to which a right or wrong 
 conduct of that understanding led him. 
 
 So far as justice to this eminent person's real sentiments requires 
 it, the Author has sincere pleasure in introducing this explanatory 
 note. But he ventures to believe, that that learned nobleman him- 
 self, cannot be insensible to the proud, self-conceited condition of 
 mind in which too many of those who, in the present day of almost 
 universal enlightenment, look up to that very Lord B******* 
 scarcely less as their idol, than intellectual " Schoolmaster :"— and it 
 is for the benefit and Christian admonition of self-exalted spirits such 
 as these, that the remarks of Note 44 are mainly intended. 
 ,, The Author would indulge an earnest hope, from a close observa- 
 tion of Lord B*******'s more recent labours, that as the down- 
 hill path of life is awaiting him — (though happily at present possess- 
 ing great physical as well as mental vigour) — his views of usefulness 
 are attaining a decided tone ; befitting the improved condition of a 
 people advancing in pure Christianity, as well as in science, litera- 
 ture and the arts ; nor can he believe that the patient assiduity and 
 fearless fidelity with which that gifted person unsparingly attacks 
 the demoralizing influence of evil in every form, is unaccompanied 
 with a modifying, not to say christianizing, power over his own pri- 
 vate thoughts and affections ;— and that in thus, in all the move-
 
 270 \"TI> T<> (AN T«) VI. 
 
 mints of his powerful mind, — " going about" from one, often dis- 
 tal, Bubjecl i" .-mother, " doing good,'' — he is gradually imbibing 
 the grace <>f that perfect type of God-like humanity — JesUB 
 himself! 
 
 Note 101. Page 127. 
 
 •■ . \inl to the world resound his loved and early la?j." 
 
 Notwithstanding the volumes and essays, and exhortations 
 already before the world on the subject of early rising, to which the 
 expression of "early lay" refers, the Author would fain subscribe his 
 seal yea if it were his last — to the importance and advantages, not 
 to say the duty, of m i/.ing the early hours of the morning. From an 
 
 rience of many years in his own person, and from the concur- 
 n nt testimony of much greater and more useful men of by-gone 
 days, he has no hesitation in asserting that human life is greatly 
 abridged in a twofold sense by the practice of needless indulgence 
 in sleep. First, by the positive privation of at least two hours of 
 every day ; and of that portion of it which, for mental exercise, he 
 
 to hesitation in avowing his firm conviction is by far the most 
 valuable; — and second, by the slow, but certain injury which the 
 health receives from the long continued practice of rising late. 
 
 Note 102. Page 130. 
 
 "OrA******, S**********,—?je, 
 Who, heedless of all consequence, thus join 
 These maddening crowds, are wrong" — 
 
 mes are immaterial in the illustration of good or bad principles. 
 The mob-fostered spirits above referred to, may be well intentioned 
 men; — but without somewhat more reference to the disturbing in- 
 fluence and baneful " consequences" of their exciting harangues, 
 we are in danger of substituting weak judgments for practical 
 wisdom.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO VI. 271 
 
 Note 103. Page 132. 
 
 " Yes, noble Fox ! thou ivho, with Paul's high zeal." 
 
 It is impossible to read the history of the early Friends as nar- 
 rated by Sewell and Gough, without feeling that they were a race 
 very much beyond the cold and money-loving spirits which, alas ! 
 are too often found among their professing descendants of the present 
 day. What mind can recall the sufferings of the youth Parnel, — 
 who after a barbarous imprisonment of ten or eleven months in a hole 
 " like a baker's oven," at Colchester Castle, died in that very prison 
 at the early age of eighteen ; — or the noble patience of Robinson, Mary 
 Dyar and others, who actually suffered death by public execution in 
 New England; without feeling that, in many respects, the Society 
 has fearfully retrograded from its pristine integrity and devoted- 
 ness to the cause of Christ. 
 
 It is not here meant to be implied that there are not now those 
 who, if it were possible for like circumstances to arise, would not 
 manifest an equally firm adherence to their principles, and maintain, 
 at the hazard of property and of life itself, the testimonies that dis- 
 tinguish them as a Christian community. But the Author does 
 greatly fear that the relative number of such truly devoted spirits 
 as compared with what it was in the early periods of the Society, is 
 indeed, lamentably small. 

 
 NOTES TO C AX TO Ml. 
 
 i 1 04. Page i 9 
 
 B 
 
 •• ./ iwus.' who didst all \ , inspin '" 
 
 To the reflective and devout reader of his Bible, the Author need 
 scarcely remark, thai in a twofold sense is Jesus the " Wonderful 
 Counsellor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prinoeof 
 Peace!" Bpoken of as the inspirerof prophecy: — first, by his innate 
 and eternal power as the Logos, which " was in the beginning with 
 I rod," — and by whom " all things were made" and done ; and second, 
 as being himself, in his subsequent and mysterious manifestation in 
 the flesh, the sublime key-note of the Bible, and the object of all 
 prophecy : by him as the power, came the voice of inspiration and 
 prophecy, and of him, as the subject, do all parts of hoth Old 
 and New Testament testify, as the sublime focus of their heavenly 
 truths. 
 
 Xoti. 105. Page 140. 
 
 " Nathless of all the arts of ini, r days, 
 None cm i '• r rival thee—creativt press!" 
 
 It i impossible for the mind to take a more extended view of the 
 state of literature, and the diffusion of knowledge in the present day, 
 as compared with the t, r ross intellectual darkness which covered even 
 the nations of Europe prior to the discovery of printing, without also 
 adverting to the fact, thai upwards of 1,400 years had elapsed since 
 the divine announcement of the Gospel dispensation, ere the power
 
 NOTES TO CANTO VII. 273 
 
 of a general dispersion of the Scriptures could have place ; — and 
 that even then, although these sacred records were among the earliest 
 fruits of the press, little comparatively was done till the establish- 
 ment of the Bible Society, between three and four hundred years 
 afterwards. It may, therefore, safely be averred, that the world 
 is yet in its infancy as regards the means of diffusing Scriptural 
 knowledge; — and well indeed is it that the noble "witness" for 
 Christ in that glorious institution, did not. longer delay its ap- 
 pearance : — for although still, it is to be feared, inefficient in its 
 influence to counteract the mass of indiscriminate and sadly bane- 
 ful publications of every possible subject and character, the Bible 
 Society is at least preparing the ground and sowing the seed, 
 which it is devoutly to be hoped, — nay, firmly believed, — through 
 divine aid, will, ere many generations pass, cause fruits to spring up 
 much more abundantly: — in some countries "thirty, in some sixty, 
 and in some a hundred fuld." 
 
 Note 106. Page 140. 
 
 " Fain would the Bard a votive anthem bring, 
 And sound with minstrelsy the blest acclaim 
 
 Of that " Society" — whose head, nor king 
 Nor queen of earth commands." 
 
 The incidental allusion to the labours of the Bible Society in the 
 'preceding note, does not satisfy the Author without a more distinct 
 reference to the marvellous extent of its labours. 
 
 The present year's report he has not yet seen, but those for pre- 
 vious years shew a total issue of Bibles and Testaments by the 
 British and Foreign Bible Society so astounding, that for the com- 
 paratively short period of the existence of the Society itself — little 
 more than thirty years — it may be considered as presenting a tan- 
 gible advance towards the universal spread of the Gospel. 
 
 Admitting that numberless copies are lost, laid aside, or remain 
 unsold in the hands of booksellers, depositaries, or libraries, yet the 
 constant large streams which yearly pour forth from this, and other 
 Societies in Europe, America and Asia, must, in the course of even 
 a single century, do much, under Providence, towards evangelizing 
 a large portion of the actual population of the globe. 
 
 Is it possible for a sincere lover of the Gospel and believer in its 
 
 T
 
 NOTES I" « kNTO V II. 
 
 Tut 1 1 it triumphs to contemplate Buch a result, without theovei power* 
 i ml: <-nm iction thai a Society thus working, and thus supported, will 
 be an important Lnstrumenl in the hands of the Omniscient Ruler of 
 the earth; and is tracing its silent and rapid way towards an uni- 
 i. r-.nl diffusion of the Bacred writings;- thereby wonderfully 
 accelerating the approach of those glorioi when "the know- 
 
 ledge "i" the Lord shall cover the earth as the waters cover the 
 .'" Should tin.' misgiving faith of any timid protestanl be view- 
 ing with alarm the buildings of the Roman Catholic Church 
 — its numberless schools, chapels, nunneries and colleges — lei 
 him pause, ere he imagine thai the actual number of individual 
 proselytes, or of the natural increase by population, is advancing in 
 any thing like an equal ratio;-- and against any admitted means 
 which may he fairly ascribed to the untiring activity and zeal of 
 that powerful community— lei the alarmist set the total contrast. 
 which the world now presents to those periods of the early Church 
 described by the interesting and original author of " Tin Ililiuinus 
 History of Man."- (Smith, Elder and Co., L838.) 
 
 "Soon after Christianity became general in Europe and part of 
 a, it was thoughl necessary, in order to prevent divisions and 
 heresies, thai the true churches, in every part of the world, should 
 be united together, according to some generally recognized form of 
 Church Government, bo asto form one General or Catholic Church. 
 To this Church, in the persons of her ministers, it was contended, 
 thai the power of binding and loosing was committed, and in due 
 time the bishop of Rome was constituted head, Father or Pope of 
 the Church." 
 
 " There could he neither rest nor peace to a Church" thus origi- 
 nated " so long as the two great witnesses — the Scriptures of the New 
 and Old Testament — continued to testify so plainly against any 
 combination, under whatever name or pretence, to appoinl adiffer- 
 ent head of the Church from Him who was already enthroned in 
 ll> .\'ii." Of whom ''they spoke so plainly as having all power in 
 I in earth committed to Him, that it became absolutely 
 necessary to Bilence these witnesses. 
 
 •• a Catholic- or Genera] Church should have a catholic or general 
 language." " Accordingly they had them translated into adead lan- 
 guage, in some degree intelligible to the priests, but as an unknown 
 tongue to all the people. A hold step: — but it answered the pur- 
 pose; — the witnesses were effectually silenced." — (Sect. Antichrist, 
 29, 330.)
 
 NOTES TO CANTO VII. 275 
 
 Yes ! let any timid Protestant — the Author repeats — contrast with 
 the dominant periods of the Papal Church History, the position which 
 protestantism has since achieved for the diffusion of the Scriptures 
 in the native languages of the various nations of the earth ;■ — and 
 then ask himself if he can, for one moment, indulge a misgiving 
 thought as to the onward advance of the glorious light of Gospel 
 truth. If to this, he add also, the progress and extension of 
 Christian education, — particularly throughout Europe, and America, 
 — surely all feeling of alarm will subside into a thankful adoration 
 of the Wisdom and Omnipotence of the Divine Ruler. 
 
 Note 107. Page 142. 
 "England! if nations may of glory boast?' 
 
 The mere philosopher may claim for Britain a pre-eminence in sci- 
 ence, art, and commerce ; but the philanthropist and the Christian will 
 hail her queen of nations, on a much higher ground ; and will point 
 to her institutions for improving the morals and spreading the gospel 
 among the poor, and especially to her Bible and Missionary Societies, 
 as surpassing those of all other countries, in the extent of good 
 actually accomplished. Delightful as it is to watch the progress of 
 other kingdoms in following her example in these works of charity 
 and love, we must nevertheless truly claim for our native country this 
 higher position in the preaching of the gospel and distribution of the 
 Bible. Let any one glance over the returns shewn even in the reports 
 of the last few years, and it will at once be seen that America, the 
 most active and zealous in its operations, and commencing within a 
 few years of our own Bible Society, has scarcely yet reached a fifth 
 part of the same extent of issues. 
 
 Those who, with the philosopher, are looking at one feature only 
 of our national progress, may hesitate in assigning to England the 
 superiority of mathematics and chemistry over France ; and so, in 
 some other branches of natural and scientific knowledge. But the 
 christian, in his larger contemplation of the future, as well as the 
 present, hesitates not in placing the Missionary and Bible labours 
 of this country far above those of any other community on the face 
 of the globe. And which, thinks the reader, is most conducive to 
 the glory of God, and happiness of mankind ? — the spread of science, 
 or, in the language of the day, " the diffusion of useful knowledge,'' 
 
 T 2
 
 HOT] - TO ' wr<» \ ii. 
 
 \altended by u christian education, and with humility and self know 
 ledge : or, the vital and universal acceptance <>r i he inspired truths oi 
 the gospelP it is nol -aid. that the reading of the Bible will necessaril] 
 1 to humility and self-knowledge; bul this the Author ha- no 
 hesitation in Bolemnlj declaring, thai the knowledge of all the 
 science and all the arts thai the genius and skill of man haveyel 
 developed, without the reading the Bible, will necessarily fead away 
 from humility j and consequently also from thai mosl important of 
 all sciences, the true knowledge of self. 
 
 Till, therefore, the attainments of the mere intelled arc sanctified 
 bj thai grace "which enlighteneth every man" who humbly seeks 
 it- illuminating and chastening influence, and thus Christianity 
 keep pace with literature, Bcience, and art, little good, it is to be 
 red, can be augured of England, with all its K century of inven- 
 tion-,'* and rapid accumulation of know led. 
 
 The Author is fully alive to the outcry, — alas! hut too often well 
 founded,— of deists and infidels of every grade, against the poisonous 
 hypocrisy too truly and Lamentably mixing with the stream- of pro- 
 
 rionj but spite of i his sad admixture of imperfection, he ha- no 
 fear with regard to the continued and increasing propagation of the 
 G -pel, and the collateral "diffusion of Christian knowledge." Once 
 more, however, does the Author earnestly entreat hi- reader not to 
 misunderstand him. His admiration of science and knowledge in 
 other- 1- almost idolatrous, and he can never enter the presence of a 
 learned or scientific man, without a sort of instinctive respect; but 
 it has happily been accompanied w ith the ardent hope thai the intel- 
 lectual attainments were, in those cases, crowned with the nobler 
 grace- humility, and thai the individual was one who did render 
 unto the Giver of all his physical, mental, and spiritual endowment- 
 thai glory, of which none can deprive Him without condemnation. 
 
 Noti 108. Page 142. 
 
 ■• ) . - ,n 1 1 tfu /-/•' rani thost powers twain, 
 
 Expansivi tteam, and metal-covered way 
 Of modern days tht marvel." 
 
 However much the Author is sometimes disposed to tremble at 
 the incredible pr og r es s .which art, in almost every department, is 
 making towards the refinement and perfecting of human comforts; — 
 
 4
 
 NOTES TO CANTO VII. 277 
 
 especially when connected with this advance, he witnesses the fact 
 of Railway Directors deliberately running their trains on the 
 Sabbath, and the Government of the day as deliberately seconding 
 such decision, by availing themselves of these sabbath-breaking 
 companies for their Post Office purposes ; — he still consoles himself 
 with the more animating belief, that as the spread of real, vital 
 Christianity advances, all these abundant sources of pride, luxury, 
 and sinfulness will ultimately be over-ruled for more righteous pur- 
 poses to the future generations of man. 
 
 Note 109. Page 143. 
 
 " Think that science or that art can give 
 Those inborn virtues." 
 
 On the general moral condition of Britain, there were a few lines 
 in an admirable article " On the Elections," in Blackwood's Magazine, 
 September 1837, which the Author cannot forbear quoting : — 
 
 " Since the close of that contest," (with the late Emperor 
 of France) "the nation has been alternately engrossed with the 
 exultation of victory or the lassitude of exhaustion; the eager- 
 ness of commercial enterprise, or the depression of pecuniary suf- 
 fering; the excitement of political change, or the pride of me- 
 chanical improvement. Luxury has made rapid strides ; the intel- 
 lect has been lavishly cultivated ; but the feelings that would make 
 luxury harmless, the lessons that would make knowledge humble, 
 have not been proportionably cherished." 
 
 And further on follows a line or two of excellent advice : — " In 
 the mean time, let no excuse or difficulty prevent the lovers of their 
 country from exerting themselves in the individual circles which 
 surround them, to promote the diffusion of true knowledge, kind 
 feeling, sound morality, and pure religion." 
 
 Most cordially does the Author unite, not only in this strong but 
 just picture of England's condition immediately after the close of the 
 war, but also in the value of the important counsel which follows it 
 for the individual guidance of every true lover of his country.
 
 278 NOTES TO CANTO VII. 
 
 Note 110. Page 144. 
 
 " Say-it thou no good from evil can he free, 
 . I in/ /fin/, ar railways cease or Sabbath days 
 1/ 'ust needs be broken thus, and this to thee 
 No violation .'" 
 
 Although the Author has elsewhere dwelt with undisguised free- 
 dom on the utter disregard of the Sahbath, shewn by those new 
 spirits of autocrats, called " Railway Directors," he cannot resist 
 inserting the subjoined pertinent and uncompromising remarks from 
 a Clergyman residing near a station in a large inland town; — most 
 heartily concurring in the full belief, that the predictive parts will 
 be fearfully verified if a more upright and Christian Government do 
 not arise to check these growing sins : — 
 
 '• But other evils are almost nothing to the new mode of defying the 
 Almighty — the wholesale desecration of his holy day by Companies, 
 drawing away souls by hundreds — yea, thousands — in the face of 
 Cod's sun and within the sound of the Church-going bell, into a 
 disregard of his laws — a contempt of his authority and very being, 
 amidst the whirl of a railroad train, andthe splendours of one of its traf- 
 ficking exhibitions ! Oh, this is the boldest, the most heart-rending 
 demonstration of irreligious defiance, and the most appalling proof 
 of the triumph of Satan over God and his Ministers, which England 
 has ever yet been condemned to see, and the Christian ever called 
 to mourn over on his country's account ; for he knows what succes- 
 sive calamities it is calculated to bring on the land, and what jealous 
 anger it may arouse in the Almighty to arise and avenge his own 
 cause. And will he not be "avenged on such a nation as this?" Most 
 assuredly he will ; and, ere long, punish us openly and before the 
 world, and by judgments as unheard of as those w'hereby he has of 
 late terribly shewn the power of his wrath to execute vengeance 
 upon man lor his sin : and the cholera, and the influenza, and the 
 cold, and the blight, and the murrain, and stagnation of trade shall 
 be considered as nothing in comparison of the wrath which He will 
 pour out upon as by his ministers of wrath. See Psalm vii. 11 — 13. 
 "The present instance of Sabbath desecration is the more inex- 
 cusable, since, by railroad travelling, the days of the week have been 
 actually doubled, and more can now be effected in one day than in 
 two before; so that it was doubly incumbent upon the Companies 
 alluded to, to rcaolve on a strict observance of the Sabbath.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO VII. 279 
 
 " When men, however, overleap the barriers which God has set 
 up, and which human communities have ever found to be necessary 
 to their welfare, then may we expect that he will send a speedy 
 visitation upon them ; and a confusion equal to that which discon- 
 certed the Babel-builders ; or a blast like that upon Pharaoh and 
 his host. 
 
 " The following passages of Scripture, prove that the desecration 
 of the Sabbath is the curse of a nation, whether that desecration be 
 committed by pleasure or by business — by dissipation at a tavern, 
 or by travelling on a railroad. Either are the broad road which 
 leadeth to destruction. The Sunday traveller may think he is only 
 going to Liverpool — he is going farther ; and if any one will but 
 calmly and candidly examine the following passages in God's word, 
 he may learn how far, and be induced to pause ere it be too late ; 
 and be saved from adding sin to sin and contributing to his country's 
 woe. — ■ 
 
 "Nehemiah xiii. 17, 18. — 'Then I contended with the nobles of 
 Judea, and said unto them, what evil thing is this that ye do, and 
 profane the Sabbath day ? Did not your fathers thus, and did not our 
 God bring all this evil upon us and upon this city ? yet ye bring 
 more wrath upon Israel by profaning the Sabbath.' 
 
 " Ezekiel xx. 15, 16. — ' I would not bring them into the land which 
 I had given them — because they walked not in my statutes, but pol- 
 luted my Sabbaths.' — The whole passage here from the 15th to the 
 26th verse is deserving of attentive perusal, and serious consider- 
 ation ; and especially the 25th verse, respecting God's giving them 
 statutes that were not good, and judgments whereby they should not live." 
 Has not something like this been fulfilled to us by our profanations 
 of God's Sabbath ? and may we not expect worse things, if we pro- 
 ceed from bad to worse ? See Ezekiel xxiii. 46." 
 
 In making the above quotations, the Author of these notes would 
 more particularly apply them to those who undertake long journeys 
 on the Sabbath, and not to those who merely occupy half an hour or 
 an hour in passing from the centre of a city, or large town, to its rural 
 environs. He is quite disposed to sympathise with the operative in 
 his unceasing six days' confinement during the week, and would be 
 the last person to desire the abridgment of such legitimate use of 
 the Sabbath as is consistent with a proper attention to his religious 
 duties. But every one knows the danger of indulging even these 
 short suburban excursions. Unless the mind be kept in a tranquil 
 and unexcited state during such periods of enjoyment, they become
 
 280 NOTES TO CANT"' \ II. 
 
 equally injurious to the besl peace of the individual, aa though he 
 had travelled a hundred miles; equally draw him away from the 
 express and sacred purposes <>f the day, as the club-rooms, the 
 dinner parties, and other dissipating habits of the great. 
 
 The tavern and its collateral associations, are just as dangerous 
 to the operative, as the Sunday parties and travelling propensities of 
 the rieli are adverse to their duly appreciating the sacredness and 
 inestimable privileges of the Sabbath. 
 
 Note 111. Page 147. 
 
 " From royal Edward sisU r*s bosom flows 
 
 t purer stream of thought than late hath run 
 Through sovereign breasts." 
 
 It is difficult to recall the memory of the pious and youthful King 
 Edward the Sixth, without expressing a fervent hope that, in the 
 
 n:i:U of character, though not in brevity of life, our young 
 Queen may be found emulating his excellencies, and desire to for- 
 rd the cause of truth and Christianity. Surely every thing in the 
 personal history of her Majesty betokens, that her illustrious parents, 
 in anticipation of the exalted destiny which awaited their child, were, 
 till the death of her lamented father, and since by his excellent 
 Duchess, unceasingly solicitous that principles of true patriotism 
 and devotedness to the cause of pure religion among her people, 
 Bhould be deeply implanted and sedulously cherished. 
 
 It is, alas! one of the anamolics of the present artificial state of 
 the world of politic^, thai owing to the importance of avoiding all 
 precipitate changes on the accession of a new monarch to the throne, 
 the Queen is necessarily brought into frequent private as well 
 as official contact, with characters with whom it might be sup- 
 
 d t<i he- an object of especial desire that no kind of intercourse 
 should exist. 
 
 Note 112 Page 152. 
 •■ Vo M** "* sway, «/ virtue's sacred price 
 
 II r COUnSi It thi a." 
 
 A more demonstrative evidence of the earthly maxims of the ac-
 
 NOTES TO CANTO VII. 281 
 
 tive reforming spirits of the present day, could hardly be found 
 than in the defiance of all correct feeling by that sentiment of an 
 ex-member for Middlesex, wherein he holds the consistency of pri- 
 vate virtue to be altogether indifferent to political integrity ;— or in 
 other words, that the dissolute John Wilkes could be as pure a 
 patriot as Lord Chatham. 
 
 The abhorrent — nay blasphemous notion, that a debauched and 
 irreligious life may co-exist with pure and upright patriotism in 
 a statesman, is so fearful a libel upon the constitution of a 
 professedly Christian Government, that a man who utters it, 
 should be marked out by the reprobation of all sincere believers 
 in the Gospel : — and yet what, alas ! shall be said of the infatu- 
 ating influence of political partizanship, when it is found that 
 dissenting College Professors of high note in the voluntary 
 world, could issue a public declaration respecting this same 
 ex-member for Middlesex, in which are these words : — " I feel 
 myself obliged upon every ground of reason and religion, to do all 
 that I can to promote his return to Paliament." 
 
 With all due reverence would the Author say in the apostle's expres- 
 sive words " God forbid," that such spirits as either this renowned 
 Goliah of the voluntary principle, or his beau ideal of a parliament 
 patriot, should ever have a shadow of domination over Britain or 
 her councils ! 
 
 Note 113. Page 152. 
 
 " Nor modem /J****** pain 
 A Briton's heart." 
 
 The Author, in common with all readers of English history, feels a 
 sort of instinctive veneration for the descendants of the political 
 martyr of 1683 ; — but in addition to historical interest of this kind, 
 the name of Russell has a further claim upon his more private 
 feelings of interest in the fact, that one of his most intimate school- 
 boy associates was, for many years, patronized by the Duke of 
 B******, and located at Woburn as librarian of the Abbey; — J. H. 
 Wift'en, — the Author of a Spencerian translation of Tasso's " Jeru- 
 salem Delivered," and also, among other works, of a comprehensive 
 " History of the House of Russell." 
 
 The allusion in the text refers to some expressions contained in a
 
 282 NOTES TO CANTO VII. 
 
 letter of the late Colonial Secretary, to an elector in a borough 
 for which a Conservative candidate of exemplary personal cha- 
 racter, and talents of a superior order, had been brought forward, 
 to the effect that "they would hardly think of electing a pen- 
 sioner." The Author confesses, that he felt pained at an allusion 
 invidious and unjust in itself, and so utterly unworthy the high 
 character of the Secretary himself. 
 
 In making this candid remark, however, upon an isolated and 
 comparatively trilling circumstance, occurring during the excite- 
 ment of an election, the Author feels impelled by a sense of justice 
 to the general aim of that enlightened nobleman's uniformly con- 
 sistent career as an assiduous, highly talented, and independent 
 statesman — to advert to a very different scene, in which his 
 truly Christian philanthropy has been most efficiently displayed. 
 I le alludes to the great moral experiment in the treatment of juve- 
 nile criminals, which is now in most successful operation at 
 Parkhurst Penitentiary in the Isle of Wight, under the presiding 
 care of Captain Robert Woollcombe ; — a gentleman whose previous 
 experience as a magistrate, and long and devoted attention to Chris- 
 tian education, peculiarly qualified him for the task of opening up 
 altogether a new field of moral labour. 
 
 The Institution has been graphically described, twelve or thirteen 
 months ago, in Chambers' Journal ; — but the subsequent period has 
 not only extended the usefulness of the system from 153 — the num- 
 ber of convicts when Chambers visited it— to 287 at the period the 
 Author saw it in the autumn of the present year, 1841 ; but every 
 month has demonstrated the success of this interesting and invaluable 
 effort, — not only thus to separate, but — to transform the young 
 criminal from a state of hopeless wickedness, ignorance and misery, 
 to one of self-respect, intelligence and usefulness;— and this, be it 
 
 pecially remembered, not by the exercise of terror — or, in the 
 language of some philanthropists, — the system of deterring by com- 
 pulsion ; but by the influence of kindness, — by the instruction of their 
 minds, employment of their hands, and reformation of their hearts. 
 
 So convinced is the Author, of the importance and success of this 
 experiment upon the efficiency of the principle of prevention by the 
 rcise of Christian love, rather than that of authority and fear, 
 that he would be rejoiced to learn that the labours of his excellent 
 friend the Governor of Parkhural had been imitated by the establish- 
 ment of at least two or three similar prisons in other parts of 
 the kingdom.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO VII. 283 
 
 In reference to this point also, Captain Woollcombe, with true 
 Christian zeal for the promotion of preventive rather than penal 
 measures against crime, has not been unmindful of his public duty ; 
 and from actual experience of the benefits derived from the system 
 pursued at Parkhurst, did suggest to the late accomplished Secretary 
 for the Home Department, the desirableness of its extension. 
 
 The Marquess of Normanby might possibly indulge fears as to 
 the finding properly qualified and equally conscientious Governors, 
 such as the zealous individual to whom Lord John Russell had been 
 providentially directed in the onset of his experiment. But the 
 Author ventures confidently to hope that the Chief of the Park- 
 hurst establishment, was not too sanguine when he expressed to 
 him his belief, that he could at once point to several equally en- 
 lightened and Christian individuals, both competent and de- 
 sirous to aid in this great work of juvenile reformation. Captain 
 Woollcombe, and his estimable colleague the Rev. Thomas England, 
 the Chaplain, quite agreed in judgment, that the numbers in each 
 Penitentiary should not exceed from three to four hundred ; — both 
 uniting in the indispensableness of giving to every separate case 
 its individual and distinct treatment ; — which of course would 
 become the more difficult, if not impracticable, as the numbers 
 increased beyond three or four hundred. 
 
 The experiment having originated with Lord John Russell, the 
 Author felt bound, in gratitude for the pleasure afforded by his visit 
 to Parkhurst, to make this explicit mention of the institution itself. 
 
 Note 114. Page 167- 
 
 " Oh, then! (but not till then! ) will God bestow 
 
 On you, ye sons of intellect and art, 
 Ye P*****s, and ye B*******s—B*****s too 
 
 With all the train of learning's crowded mart, 
 His heavenly meed of perfect peace.'' 
 
 Mere learning, however profound, — or genius, however lofty, — un- 
 accompanied by the grace of humility in the heart, and devotion of the 
 faculties to the glory of their Creator, will be found unequal to the 
 bestowment of that inward peace which is an integral and essential 
 part of the Christian's happiness.
 
 wi Eg TO I \ \ i<> \ [I. 
 
 Where, therefore, the tendency of a man's writings is either un- 
 
 iiirable <>r indifferent to the spread of the Gospel, il cannot, of 
 
 Bucfa a writer, be Bald thai he is occupying his talents to the honour 
 
 and Bervice of thai Master by whom, at the final day of account, all 
 
 minds and all hearts an- to be judged. Till these suns of learning 
 
 and of Lreiiius ran cast their crowns at tin- feel "f the cross, and 
 
 mowledge that, instead of cause for triumph over the comparative 
 
 intellectual darkness of their less enlightened fellow-creatures, the 
 
 [ <•"< --don of superior mental endowments is but a call for greater 
 humility, as well as responsibility, they will assuredly find they 
 have fatally missed that pure enjoyment of mental power which 
 awaits the man who lives conscious that he has nothing, "which he 
 
 - not ree ' -and who feels that he is really happy only in 
 
 portion as self i- renounced; — that he is but as it were, an 
 instrument, through which a nobler grace — the spirit of truth and 
 ol knowledge— is pouring strains of delightful harmony, heavenly 
 in its source and results : — conveying, whatever his talents may 
 be, essential benefits to his fellow-men, in the right exercise of th' 
 talents; — and to himself an inexpressible, — though possibly to 
 others, unseen, — enjoyment of peace in its purest and most ex- 
 alted sense. 
 
 The cold hearts of unbelieving philosophers may protest that 
 this is all idle refinement upon what they would doubtless maintain, 
 namely: — that science and learning, even when altogether separate 
 from religious motives, cannot be exercised without bestowing good 
 upon mankind ;— and that irrespective of Christianity, knowledge is 
 happiness, as well as power. The Author would only entreat spirits 
 such as the-'' to compare themselves, or others of the same cast of 
 thought, with a truly devoted and humble minded Christian philoso- 
 pher or scholar ; — and then calmly determine which of the two pos- 
 •he truest enjoyment of life: — he who, like the masterminds 
 referred to in the text, claims for himself the merit of self-culture, but 
 with trausci ndant talents, Bhows no evidence of exercising them to 
 the glory of h >r; — or he who, equally possessed of high in- 
 
 tellectual endowments, ascribes all to Christ, and seeks only how he 
 may must worthily manifest his thankfulness for their possession, by 
 devoting himself, heart and soul, to the cause, either direct or indi- 
 rect, of his risen Redeemer. 
 
 Till tie the men of art and science, and learning, as well as 
 
 the m re Blaveof tin- world, can learn to appreciate the Sabbath, as 
 
 pecially due to the Bacredness of its rest-giving objects, most
 
 NOTES TO CANTO VII. 285 
 
 thoroughly satisfied is the Author, that God will not bestow on them 
 " His heavenly meed of perfect peace." 
 
 Does any one allege, that in thus freely descanting upon the er- 
 rors of others, he is betraying an uncharitable spirit ? — The author's 
 only reply is— that truth is of infinitely greater value than the 
 opinion of any man or woman whatsoever ; — and that as those who 
 write to instruct or inform others, are especially amenable to the 
 judgment of that public, to whom they address themselves— and of 
 which public the minstrel Author of these free-written pages is a 
 member, — he should feel it a gross dereliction of his duty as a Chris- 
 tian writer himself, did he not endeavour in every possible way to 
 bring men to a proper sense of their dependent position towards 
 God for all the faculties they possess, and to the consequently in- 
 dispensable grace of humility in their exercise. 
 
 Note 115. Page 16 3. 
 
 " Alas ! more need, on this momentous theme, 
 
 To call the rich, and ah I the artist throng 
 To scenes of Sabbaths broken.'" 
 
 If it may seem invidious to note the failings of one particular 
 class, the Author can only justify himself by asserting what he 
 believes to be the fact of by far too many of " the artist throng," — 
 the frequenting their studios on the Sabbath as well as other 
 days. He stays not to ask another to contradict what he has 
 witnessed with his own eyes, and what he has heard from the 
 lips of some of the ill-fated sons of genius themselves ; — this too 
 common practice of violating the day of sacred rest, — a practice 
 which he fears, is sufficiently well known to require but little 
 evidence to support it. 
 
 Public exhibitions such as annually occur at Liverpool, Man- 
 chester, Newcastle, Birmingham, &c. not unfrequently open for the 
 first time of the season, on the second day (Monday) ; — and the 
 Author would be thankful if he could believe that in no instance has 
 the previous day been resorted to for throwing in an additional 
 effect to a picture, according as its situation or contrast with sur- 
 rounding ones, seemed to require. Suffice it to say, that unhappily 
 he knows that in too many instances, such is the fact. 
 
 He can never, therefore, meet a youth, entering with enthusiasm 
 this tempting career, without earnestly entreating him to beware
 
 NOTES TO C.WTo VII. 
 
 of tlic examples which axe sure to await him on this point. It has 
 been his happiness to know B few young persons, who, either con- 
 tinuing tinder the preserving oversight of Christian parents, or 
 carrying to the metropolis principles so well established as to pro- 
 
 ? them from this master sin of art, have found, that in propor- 
 tion as they render a right homage to the sacredness of the day 
 of Test, their very talents are improved and invigorated;— and this, 
 of course, followed by a degree of inspiring confidence in Pro- 
 vidence, as to their ultimate success, which the mere worldling, 
 howevt r great his talents, neither possesses nor desires ; — but who, 
 in a vain reliance upon his own unaided powers, pursues his godless 
 career, with a restless impatience always characteristic of those who 
 
 k only the honour which cometh from man. 
 
 aestly — yes, most earnestly — would the Author beseech any 
 young artist, to whom by any possibility these lines may reach, 
 calmly to consider ere he unites in the practice of his elder compe- 
 titors, by devoting even a single half hour, — whether of pallette or 
 chisel, — to Sabbath labours of this kind; lest hereafter he bring upon 
 himself those reproaches of conscience, for which no earthly success 
 can in the smallest degree compensate. 
 
 If any reader should impatiently complain of the Author thus re- 
 peatedly adverting to the violation of the Sabbath, he will, for once, 
 quote a moralist of some note in the world of literature — Dr. Samuel 
 Johnson; — who has somewhere written that — "men require more 
 often to be r< minded than informed;" and it is from no crude or in- 
 experienced estimate of the value, as well as sacredness, of that 
 divinely appointed day, that the Author has thus urgently and re- 
 peatedly brought it into notice in these pages. 
 
 Note 116. Page 184. 
 
 " And //< / if words 
 Of Holy llri/, and ■/< nt's truth be there, 
 
 .\ ot all your millions of unsheathed swords, 
 Can turn one tittle of that wrath, which vengeance hoards." 1 
 
 It may, perhaps, to some appear presumptuous that, removed as the 
 Author's station and principles are from the influence of fashion, he 
 should venture thus confidently to write of what he can know only 
 by inference or report. He is, however, from close observation of the
 
 NOTES TO CANTO VII. 287 
 
 totally different walk of those, who — though in property and rank 
 allied to the world of fashion — carry out their Christian principles 
 in the individual life, so fully persuaded of the truth of all he as- 
 severates on these topics ; that he feels justified in calling upon such 
 objectors to prove that the class against which his attacks lie, are 
 equally useful, or equally happy, with those whom the Author knows 
 to be devoting their rank, property, and talents to God-like purposes. 
 
 Note 107. Page 185. 
 
 " Worldling of high, or wit of low degree, 
 
 All stand the same in death's impartial court." 
 
 The Author's position in life has more than once brought him, for 
 many months together, to be a witness to fearful accidents and sud- 
 den deaths of various kinds ; and he is, therefore perhaps, more able 
 than many of his readers to enter into the common-place, but sadly 
 neglected, truth contained in the text. 
 
 In one particular appointment especially, — during the twelve 
 months' continuance of which, he had officially to record fourteen or 
 fifteen deaths by accident, — the reader may readily suppose that his 
 mind became, in degree, familiarized to scenes sufficiently awful 
 in themselves, but which, from their comparative frequency, are 
 always in danger of losing that salutary and impressive effect upon 
 those around, which their very suddenness is otherwise calculated 
 to inspire. 
 
 But if from scenes among the working classes, where these fearful 
 contingencies are most frequent, the Author turns his eye, for a 
 moment, to those carefully protected bulwarks by which the lives 
 of the rich and the great are, humanly speaking, secured from such 
 casualties ; and recalling the sudden prostration of a powerful athletic 
 man, for instance, — on whom death has come as in an instant 
 — looks with trembling upon the handsome young officer, or man 
 of fashion, lounging in the neighbourhood of St. James's, with all 
 the confidence of health and manly beauty, and seeming to defy 
 the very thought that death can await him; the reflective author 
 is then prone to wish that such a mind — such a form — could be im- 
 bued with a little more of grateful reverence towards that Being in 
 whom alone "he lives, and moves, and has his being ;" — that he could, 
 in verity, feel that every human being on whom he too often looks
 
 NO CANTO VII. 
 
 with a supercilious glance of contempt, has the same Almighty pro- 
 tor— tin- Bame element of immortal life as himself;— and thai 
 a fever or a battle may, as suddenly verify to him the truth, thai 
 all do indeed" stand the same in death's impartial court !" Oh ! what 
 a lesson might 1 1 1 i -^ poor minion of fashion, and the worldling of every 
 degree, Learn by occasionally entering the walls of an hospital, a gaol, 
 or an asylum. Nol only would it tend to quicken his sympathies for 
 the mass of misery which subsists in the world around him, — and of 
 which Ids habits necessarily preclude him from all knowledge, — hut 
 by the constant appeals Buch scenes would necessarily make to his own 
 personal condition of mind, — if reflection had hut its due course, — he 
 Id nol fail, in every such visil to derive mental benefit to himself: — 
 satisfaction in the kindness and sympathy bestowed upon his fellow- 
 creatures by the very act of thus witnessing their Bufferings, and 
 ice-giving emotions from the gratitude so naturally inspired, 
 by the recollection of his own merciful preservation from like 
 afflictions. 
 
 When, alas ! will poor humanity Learn that pride is, after all, the 
 great partition between man and that God in whose approving smile 
 happiness can alone be found ? And never will that pride be fully 
 slain till the soul be made individually sensible that in "death's im- 
 partial court" all other distinctions than those which divine grace 
 confers, will avail nothing towards averting the immutable decrees of 
 eternal justice; and till also the faith is shown in the life, and the 
 whole man acknowledges with the Apostle, that God is, indeed, "no 
 r specter of persons;" — but " will render to every man according to 
 hi- deeds: — to them who, by patient continuance in well doing, seek 
 glory, and honour, and immortality— eternal life ; — but unto them 
 that are contentious (proud), and do not obey the truth, but obey 
 unrighteousness, — indignation, and wrath, tribulation and anguish 
 upon every soul of man that doeth evil, of the Jew first and also of 
 the Gentile; — but glory, honour, and peace to every man that worketli 
 good, to the Jew first, and also to the Gentile." — (Rom. ii. 6—10.)
 
 289 
 
 CONCLUDING NOTE. 
 
 In reference to the remarks contained in the Preface — as to the 
 ignorance still too generally prevailing on the subject of insanity 
 — its causes and treatment — the Author feels impelled, before 
 closing his volume, to add some further observations ; and more 
 particularly to allude to the opportunities which the last few- 
 months have afforded him of inspecting various asylums. But 
 of those he has so inspected, which seem to call for particular 
 notice, the number is small. 
 
 In Dublin he visited the Richmond Pauper Asylum, as also 
 that founded by Dean Swift for all classes. The arrangement 
 of these, though in many points admirable — particularly the spa- 
 ciousness of the corridors, — has, of course, been much improved 
 upon in later erections. 
 
 On his return from Dublin to Liverpool, the Author proceeded 
 direct north to Glasgow; and had there the pleasure of again 
 meeting with Dr. Hutcheson, Governor of the Royal Asylum, 
 to whom he had been introduced in York a short time before. 
 Having previously seen the Glasgow Asylum, both in the years 
 1816 and 1835, the principal interest of his present visit con- 
 sisted in his intercourse with the enlightened and indefatigable 
 governor ; whose attention for many years past has been, perhaps, 
 more earnestly devoted to the subject of insanity generally, than 
 that of most persons living : — in truth, so laborious and incessant 
 have been these pursuits, that his health was visibly and rapidly 
 giving way under them, till, happily, he left home on a visit of 
 inspection of the Asylums, not only of England, but of the Con- 
 tinent ; and had but recently returned, greatly improved in health, 
 when the Author saw him in Glasgow. The object of that jour- 
 
 u
 
 con( 1 1 • 1 1 1 \ < , > i n 
 
 however, twofold : — his own health, and tin obtainin 
 of more extensive information as t<> existing establishments, prior 
 to the i rection, <m another site, of .1 new Royal Asylum for 
 lunatics — the present building having la-en already disposed of for 
 
 some public object connected with the poor of the city. 
 
 Accompanied by the Chairman of the Building Committee, as 
 also lty l>r. Qutcheson and the Architect, the Author visited the 
 aew site, which is about three miles from Glasgow; — and be 
 - that the erection which is to be of Gothic design, will be, 
 in \t to Hanwell, one of the most extensive, as well as be.-t 
 arranged buildings in the kingdom. It is of course too 
 early to judge, the ground being only then levelling; but of 
 the beauty and healthiness of the newly adopted site, there 
 cannot be two opinions. The edifice will extend seven or 
 eight hundred feet along the terraced summit of a hill, com- 
 manding one of the finest panoramic views in the neighbour- 
 hood of Glasgow. The Author afterwards examined the draw 
 and has no hesitation in declaring bis decided opinion, 
 that in many respect- the general arrangements and principles 
 of classification, will be superior to those of any building now exist- 
 in::. ' >ne serious fault of the old panoptican plan is, that by the 
 continuous encircling within high walls, — and in some instances by 
 the enclosures of the high buildings themselves, — a proper degree 
 of ventilation cannot be secured; and to the vast importance of 
 this branch of structural arrangement in gaols, hospitals, and 
 asylums, the world seems only just beginning to be sufficiently 
 alive. In the instance of the new Glasgow Royal Asylum, not 
 only doe- the extension in lines, rather than quadrangles or courts, 
 ensure the amplest means both of drainage and ventilation — 
 but also, of entirely separating the portions of the building appro- 
 priated to the poorer and wealthier classes of patients. One of 
 the great difficulties in those county asylums, such as York and 
 Stafford, where all classes are admissible, consists in the being able 
 so to separate them, as that those of the superior class may not be 
 subjected to the too- oft 1 n >1 pressing effect of constantly witness- 
 ing their pauper fellow-sufferers; — not that the Author would 
 altogether preclude the occasionally watching them at their
 
 CONCLUDING NOTE. 291 
 
 labours in the fields or gardens. At Glasgow the distinction will 
 be so perfectly provided for, that the more wealthy and educated 
 patients may enjoy their own separate grounds and walks, 
 without being necessarily subject to a sight of the poorer patients. 
 
 The Author is acquainted with one private establishment of 
 considerable extent, in which the two classes are also admitted ; 
 but it has often occurred to him as a defect of the arrangements 
 there, that the superior patients were frequently and necessarily 
 compelled to witness their more suffering companions in affliction. 
 
 From a somewhat extensive range of personal experience on 
 the subject, the Author attaches considerable importance to the 
 labours of Dr. Hutcheson ; and rejoices to find that the liberal 
 and enlightened body under whom he acts, have thrown their 
 entire confidence into his advanced views; — and the Doctor, wisely 
 desirous that the Architect employed in designing the new edi- 
 fice, should have the advantage of comparing different existing 
 institutions, recommended his accompanying him on his tour 
 of inspection both at home and abroad ; — nor can it be doubted 
 that a journey thus extensive, and under the constant intelligent 
 inquiries of so competent an observer as Dr. Hutcheson, must 
 have been of the greatest advantage to his professional companion 
 in the future concoction of their present admirable design. But 
 the Author indulges a confident hope that the closest, as well as 
 practical, labours of the Governor of the Glasgow Asylum, will 
 not be lost to the world ; and that at no remote period, he will 
 produce some comprehensive work on the causes, treatment and 
 cure of mental disease in all its forms. In the meantime the 
 axioms are both few and simple into which that valuable digest 
 will most probably resolve itself; — and which axioms the present 
 Author has proved to have been successfully acted upon, not only 
 by Dr. Conolly at Hanwell, but in other institutions. In the first 
 place, the almost entire disuse of coercion, or even harsh language to 
 patients ; in the next, the employment of every individual capable 
 either of hand labour or intellectual exertion ; and in all cases, the 
 treating and speaking to them, as much as possible, like rational 
 beings. In cases of real violence, seclusion in a room with its 
 sides padded with leather — or perhaps better, as in some of those 
 
 u 2
 
 292 IN LUDING NOTE. 
 
 at Hanwell, wuh a strong ticking, to the full height of a man, 
 will generally be Found sufficient. 
 
 ( rcion being dispensed with, those who have the care of 
 
 lent patients are driven, as Dr. II. remarks, to the necessity of 
 ascertaining the physical causes upon which violence in any case 
 depends. 
 
 Prom Glasgow the Author proceeded northward through the 
 ( Jaledonian ( anal to Inverness; and on liis return through Scot- 
 land visited, as well as other public buildings, the Asylums of 
 Aberdeen, Perth, and Edinburgh; — in all of which he found more 
 or less to interest him : — in liis visit to Dr. Mackinnon, of the 
 B iyal Edinburgh Lunatic Asylum, it was especially the case ; — 
 that excellent individual, though comparatively young, having en- 
 tered upon, and is now pursuing, his arduous duties with a zeal 
 which the Author rejoiced to witnesB, and holds to he indispen- 
 sableto their right performance ; — hut which, alas ! is too seldom 
 found in office-; bo painfully onerous as those which await the 
 superintendent of an asylum. At Edinburgh the higher and 
 lower classes of patients are under the same care; but an extensive, 
 not magnificent, arrangement has been designed and par- 
 
 tially executed under the eminent Scotch Architect, William 
 Bum, by which a total separation and complete classification 
 will hereafter he effected. 
 
 Having thus inspected a few of the most celebrated establish- 
 ments in Scotland, the Author, during his resilience in the neigh- 
 I) turbood of the metropolis, and whilo superintending his little 
 volume through the press, has availed himself of the opportunity 
 of visiting B Ham, St. Luke's, and I Ian well ; — also the County 
 Asylum for Surrey, on Wandsworth Common; and last hut not 
 least, the beautiful and admirable establishment at Dcnham Park, 
 for the sole reception of patients of the higher classes. 
 
 Of his introduction and visit to Dr. Conolly at Han well, brief 
 though it was, the Author can speak only in terms of respect and 
 plea-iii'-. The Doctor, he lament- to -ay, is still labouring under 
 somed indisposition — in all probability the remains of a most 
 
 serious attack which awaited him after the first carrying out of his 
 anti-coercive principles. It is, however, on this subject a source 
 of rejoicing to find, that although, for the first twelve or fifteen
 
 CONCLUDING NOTE. 293 
 
 months, his persevering efforts to supersede the old system, and to 
 carry out the necessary changes of attendants and nurses contin- 
 gent on the introduction of a new system of government, were, in 
 many cases, impeded hy the unfaithful and prejudiced conduct 
 of these persons, — and were attended with ceaseless complaints of 
 violence, and disorders ; — these clamours and prejudices have at 
 length happily subsided ; and for the last seven or eight months, 
 hardly a single report of a case of violence has reached him. 
 
 The accommodations afforded by this asylum, though latterly 
 extended to the reception of one thousand patients, is still inade- 
 quate to the requirements of the county; — there being still two or 
 three hundred distributed among the different union workhouses. 
 The author has subsequently visited the Surrey Asylum, under 
 the superintendence of Dr. Quick, who for five years resided at 
 Hanwell as medical attendant with the late Sir William Ellis. 
 This building is situated just under the hill across Wandsworth 
 Common, and commands a beautiful view of most parts of the 
 surrounding country ; — the design is in the Elizabethan style, and 
 has a striking and admirable effect to the eye in so secluded a 
 locality. In one portion of its interior arrangements, — the relative 
 position of the domestic offices between, and communicating with 
 the wards, — it is certainly superior even to that at Hanwell. 
 
 The accommodation is intended for three hundred patients ; 
 of which tw T o hundred and fifty have already been admitted ; 
 but the Asylum having been only completed a few months, its 
 actual condition and future working is not yet fully seen. But 
 so satisfied is the Author of the importance of these public insti- 
 tutions for the reception of pauper lunatics, that he hails, with 
 unmingled pleasure, every addition to those already in existence ; 
 and only regrets that the mere recommendation of their erec- 
 tion in the respective counties, is not superseded by a specific legis- 
 lative requirement ; there being still many counties in which no 
 such provision exists ; and where, consequently, this unhappy 
 class of dependents upon public charity, is left to the too often in- 
 adequate care of workhouses and private asylums. 
 
 As it has been the author's especial desire to acquaint himself 
 more particularly with the working of County Asylums for the
 
 L ;o,.i I i »N( i.i DING NOTE. 
 
 po tii class of patients, he cannot forbear seconding a remark of 
 S. Tnke in his valuable introduction to Kitching'e Translation of 
 Dr. Jacobi's work on the Siegburg Institution, wherein allusion 
 is made to the visiting of magistrates, and doubts expressed 
 whether, after all, this system of dependence upon than, as the 
 responsible guardians of rach establishments, is the right one; — 
 and whether it he not .still incumbent upon the Government to 
 appoint a sufficient number of competent and .stipendiary inspec- 
 tors, f>>r the purpose of preserving a more efficient oversight in 
 the details of individual management ; particularly as regards not 
 only the continued fitness and untiring zeal of governors and 
 the chief officers, but also of the attendants and nurses; with 
 whom, be it remembered, the real power of personal treatment lies. 
 
 It is not the wisdom of a committee of magistrates, nor the 
 skill ofthe architect they employ in devising a proper distribution 
 of the various parts of such structures, that can accomplish all 
 that is intended by their erection. The most perfect building in 
 the world, if it be not under the governance of right officers, will 
 but -how the more signally the utter insufficiency of this, the sub- 
 ordinate, however important, part in the provision for the cure 
 and treatment of insanity. It depends, therefore, in a much 
 higher degree, upon the wise .-election of these officers, than upon 
 the most perfect arrangements of the building, that success may, 
 under Providence, be most certainly looked for; — and to carry 
 forward, under vigilant supervision, this proper individual work- 
 ing of these inter atablishments, something more, the Author 
 ventures, with the respected authority above-mentioned, to believe, 
 is needful, than the periodical visits of even the best disposed 
 : — namely, an efficient, enlightened and liberally re- 
 munerated class of stipendiary inspectors, amenable to the exe- 
 cutive who appoints them. 
 
 The foregoing remarks have reference principally to the larger 
 asylums; — both those exclusively for pauper-, as in Hanwell and 
 Wakefield, and those in which higher class patients are included 
 within thi same establishment; — as at Glasgow, Edinburgh, 
 Stafford, and the Friends' Retreat, oeai Fork. 
 
 Ofthe advantages or disadvantages of this union of the pay-
 
 CONCLUDING NOTE. 295 
 
 ing and non-paying patients, much might be said; but the Atithor 
 does not hesitate to express his conviction, that in many cases tlie 
 advantages decidedly preponderate ; the classification and sepa- 
 ration of grounds, &e. being sufficient to ensure the one from 
 any depressing effects which the constant sight of the others 
 might produce on the minds of each. Most of the benefits of a 
 private and distinct asylum may be obtained, with the certain 
 pecuniary result to the remaining portions of the establishment 
 of greatly lessening, if not wholly making up the deficiency 
 arising from the difference of actual cost of each pauper, and the 
 amount paid by the respective parishes or meetings sending them ; 
 — and in estimating the cost of such patients, it must be remem- 
 bered, that in addition to mere food, washing, and salaries of offi- 
 cers, there is, at all times, the important one of interest on the 
 capital expended in erections and furniture. 
 
 Of the successful result of this union of the two classes of 
 patients, the Author can speak most unequivocally as it regards 
 the Friends' Retreat ; — the history of which clearly shows, that if 
 not at all periods since its institution, for a far greater portion of 
 that time, the stream of income flowing from the Lodge and House 
 patients of the superior classes, added to the small payments 
 made by the meetings or local communities from which the de- 
 pendent classes come, has sufficiently exceeded the total cost of 
 current charges of every description, to enable the committee, 
 under the sanction of the Society of Friends, by whom they are 
 appointed, gradually to increase their buildings, and extend their 
 landed estate, so that the Retreat, originally designed for thirty 
 patients, is now equal to the accommodation of upwards of one 
 hundred. 
 
 There may be reasons in the very structure of the Society for 
 whose members this establishment was formed, (though not now 
 exclusively so, at least for the superior classes,) which would be 
 less operative in the world at large; — where the distinctions 
 between the rich and poor, are, on the whole, decidedly more 
 marked than amongst the Friends. But notwithstanding this, it 
 seems but reasonable to conclude that a similar result, though not 
 perhaps to the same extent, in relation to the specific number of
 
 296 n U DING NOTE. 
 
 patients, would arise from the union of the twu classes in county 
 ami other asylums on a larger scaler and this seems confirmed by 
 a remark of 8. Take's, in the work before alluded to, in relation to 
 that Foi the County, at York. 
 
 Saving said thus much of what may be termed public esta- 
 blishments, the Author is unwilling to omit some distinct refer* 
 enoe to asylums of a more private character, such as those around 
 I adon and York: — Dr. Fox's, near Bristol; Lady Ellis's; Dud- 
 deston Hail, mar Birmingham ; Ticehuret, in Kent; and Denham 
 Park, mar Oxbridge.* 
 
 Of the advantages to the patients individually, of devoting an 
 exclusive attention to those of the higher classes, as is the case at 
 the last named establishment, the Author has not a moment's 
 <1 mbt. Strongly imbued with this view of the subject, this 
 volume has been retarded a few days, in order that he might, by 
 personal ii a, aatisfy himself of the success of the system 
 
 adopted in this seemingly artificial, but really social and attractive 
 home for the seclusion and restoration of the more educated classes 
 of the insane. 
 
 I » i!i un I'ark is situated about two miles from the town of 
 Uxbrid. ■■'■, and a short distance to the right of the Oxford Toad. 
 The house is a fine specimen of the brick mansions of 1,">0 or 200 
 ye: (t is well seen from the road, which passes it, being 
 
 backed by a crescent belt of fine plantations, and the I'ark inter- 
 
 reed with groups of noble trees. To the right of the drive, by 
 which the hous is approached from the road, is a sheet of water; 
 and further, in the same direction, a large walled garden, both 
 ornamental and horticultural. The mass of the building is in 
 such admirable proportions, that it is only upon entering within its 
 walls that the real magnitude is discovered. Suffice it to say, 
 
 * We cannot here omit the name of the late superintendent of the 
 Friends' Retreat, Thomas Allis ; — who, on retiring from an appointment he 
 has held for a period of nearly twenty years, is about to open a private 
 establishment at • tabaldswick, near ^ ork ; — and whose various mental attain- 
 ments, and long practical experience in the treatment of mental disease, so 
 peculiarly fit him for the exclusive care of patients of the higher class, to 
 which only he is about to devote his attention.
 
 CONCLUDING NOTE. 297 
 
 with regard to its external attractions, and internal scale and 
 arrangements, that the Count de Survilliers (Joseph Buonaparte) 
 was sufficiently enamoured of the spot, to adopt it as a place of 
 residence for upwards of two years. 
 
 But the chief object of interest of the Author's visit to Den- 
 ham Park, — where he was kindly attended by one of the manag- 
 ing directors, and by Dr. Anderson, the resident physician, — 
 arose from the advanced system of management which he under- 
 stood to be in operation, and in which he was not disappointed. 
 The main purpose of those who originated, and are carrying out, 
 these improved plans, appearing to be the offering to patients, who 
 are sufficiently convalescent, the social attractions of a large 
 family circle. 
 
 The class received being such only as are of superior education, 
 care is taken, in the choice of attendants and nurses, to select 
 individuals suitable for companions, as well as care-takers. 
 
 The Author, though cognizant of the modes of conducting 
 several Private Asylums, and admitting that others may exist 
 similar to this, knows, of himself, no instance in which the great 
 principle of treating patients altogether as rational, is so fully 
 carried out as at Denham. 
 
 After looking through the house and grounds, he remained to 
 dinner ; and found a party of sixteen or eighteen in a noble din- 
 ing-room, forty feet by thirty, having four lofty windows, and 
 the room itself of proportionable height. Of this group, ten or 
 eleven were patients, but the companions and visitors were so 
 intermingled with the patients, that the latter were not discover- 
 able. The Director and the Physician presided. 
 
 From the dinner table the ladies retire to their drawing-room ; 
 and in the evening both parties assemble there, and music, read- 
 ing, or other light occupations, agreeably pass away the later 
 hours of the day. 
 
 One most satisfactory feature in the system of Denham is the 
 perfect openness with which strangers are invited to inspect its 
 arrangements and attractions ; and a further one — and the Author 
 believes almost peculiar to it — is the allowing the visits of relatives 
 to extend to weeks, and in some cases even months, instead of
 
 CONCLUDING NOTE. 
 
 merely a few hours u elsewhere. He had, in fact, the pleasure of 
 returning to town with a lady who had been paying a visit to a 
 near relative, and who, unsolicited, freely and thankfully adverted 
 
 t'> the advantages Bhe found to exist at Dunham Park, over those 
 of any other institution with which she was acquainted. 
 
 It i> hardly needful to say, that the mansion is ono admirably 
 suited to thu purpose for which it is appropriated; and that, in 
 addition to its noble dining, drawing, and billiard rooms, more 
 retired apartments are found on the lofty first floor, for patients 
 equal to mingling with the circle below. 
 In having thus hastily glanced at an instance or two of the many 
 public and private asylums, which have come under his own inspec- 
 tion, the Author would now close this somewhat extended note, 
 with a few remarks on the architecture and superintendence of 
 Lunatic Establishments; — as well as the general state of know- 
 ledge on the subject of insanity, and the probable increase of 
 mental disease for some years to come. 
 
 ( >n the first point, — the structure and general arrangement of 
 the buildings themselves; — the Author is most decidedly of opinion 
 that the method adopted by the enlightened committee of the 
 Glasgow Royal Asylum is the only judicious one. Instead of 
 attempting, as is too often the case, to issue a code of " Instruc- 
 tions to Architects," they at once appointed the latter, and threw 
 him into direct intercourse with the resident physician ; — they 
 further authorized their superintendent, accompanied by the archi- 
 tect, to make an extensive tour of inspection, not only in Bri- 
 tain, but also on tin- Continent J — and being thus possessed of 
 tin- best possible means of arriving at some satisfactory design, 
 were prepared deliberately to consider and to sanction the im- 
 proved arrangements consequent upon so judicious a mode of 
 proceeding. 
 
 With this end, and supposing that a county asylum were 
 about to bu erected where one did not previously exist, the Author 
 would strongly contend for the wisdom of appointing the super- 
 intendent beforehand; — the responsibility of the entire fitness 
 of that appointment resting of course with the committee; — 
 and on this second point, of the proper superintendence of lunatic 
 
 4
 
 CONCLUDING NOTE. 299 
 
 asylums, he cannot forbear introducing a remark of Dr. Jacobi's, 
 quoted in S. Tuke's introduction before referred to ; which re- 
 mark, though applied by the Doctor to the appointment of 
 properly qualified attendants and nurses, is, the Author ventures 
 to think, even more important and applicable in that of governors, 
 superintendents, and resident medical officers. " I believe," he 
 says, " that this difficulty will never be surmounted till the spirit 
 of the age becomes so far changed as to induce persons of cul- 
 tivated minds and benevolent hearts, to devote themselves to this 
 employment from religious motives." p. xxxii. 
 
 The superintendent, being in all points the chief power, in the 
 direction of treatment, with him will of course rest the great 
 question of restraint ; — of occasional coercion, or its entire disuse. 
 On this point, and from no slight experience, the Author expresses 
 his concurrence with the remark of Samuel Tuke, where he ob- 
 serves : — "It is asserted, that all mechanical means of restraint 
 may be entirely and advantageously superseded in our asylums, 
 by the exercise of moral influence. The very huportant experi- 
 ments commenced at Lincoln, and now carrying on at Hanwell, 
 have not yet, I venture to say, quite determined the question in 
 the affirmative." 
 
 "There are cases," — so also thinks the present writer, — "in 
 which, under the most favorable management, we should best 
 consult the feelings of the patient, as well as the comfort of his 
 companions, by the application of mechanical means of restraint." 
 p. xxxiii. 
 
 The very fact of the diversity of opinion on this deeply interest- 
 ing question of restraint, manifestly shews that the knowledge 
 of mental disease is yet in a very imperfect state ; — and greatly 
 is it to be desired that an adequate number of the younger 
 and more devoted physicians of the day, may be induced to 
 direct their attention to this increasingly important branch of 
 medical knowledge. The expression " increasingly" leads the 
 Author to repeat, what in the course of both the poem and notes, 
 he has more than once intimated, — his conviction that insanity is 
 not on the decrease; and that all which great talent and religious de- 
 votion of heart to its onerous duties can supply, will be requisite to
 
 300 I ON< LUDIITG NOTE. 
 
 arrest ind keep down tliis afflictive malady. Much that thcAuthor 
 In- recently witnessed of society and its impulses, — particularly 
 during a late exi osive journey through Scotland and England, — 
 leads him to fear, that the increasing rapidity of movement in all 
 departments of commerce, aided by the travelling facilities now 
 afforded, will tend also to increase a sanguine spirit of speculation ; 
 and in the vicissitude of result, endanger the stability of many a 
 mind that would otherwise have gone, with comparative safety, 
 through a less exciting career- of exertion. Of the general state of 
 society, as bearing upon this subject, in the previously quoted in- 
 troduction, S. Tuke thus remarks : — " It may, after all, be found 
 that England, with all its civil and religious privileges, and its 
 
 udard of moral conduct, has, in connection with its wealth and 
 commercial greatness, a greater proportion of insane persons than 
 Mine, in other respect-, less favoured states. It may even be 
 found that a darkened understanding and a deadened conscience, 
 (a state of mental disease truly,) are some protection against 
 those aberrations of the mind, which are denoted by the term in- 
 sanity. 
 
 " The moral history of insanity, as it has been presented to us 
 by the cases which have come under the care of the Retreat, 
 leads directly to this general conclusion, viz : — that the due de- 
 velopment and exercise of the various physical organs, including, 
 of course, those which more especially minister to the mind, and 
 the subjection of the human will to the Divine law, are condi- 
 tions as decidedly favourble to the integrity of the understanding, 
 as they arc to the perfect exhibition of the species, man. This 
 ral doctrine will, I apprehend, be assented to by most who 
 have carefully studied the moral history of insanity ; — and some 
 inference may perhaps be safely drawn from it, as to the influence 
 -if circumstances in the production of the disease ; it would, how- 
 ever, very imperfectly direct us in estimating the tendency of 
 those combined and complicated circumstances, physical and 
 moral, which distinguish the several communities of men in the 
 different nations of Europe." 
 
 It i- to tin- M combined and complicated circumstances" of the 
 increasingly artificial state of the body commercial, as well as
 
 CONCLUDING NOTE. 301 
 
 politic, of bis own country, that the Author looks, as presenting 
 a manifest tendency, for years to come, of the increased rather 
 than decreased prevalence of insanity. Far, however, from his 
 mind be a too discouraging anticipation of the possible dispensa- 
 tions, which, in the inscrutable providences of Him who ruleth 
 the nations of the earth, may await the future ; — he thus freely 
 adventures his thoughts on the painfully interesting theme of his 
 volume, solely with the earnest desire to awaken in the minds of 
 his fellow- Christian professors of every name, a more lively sym- 
 pathy in the actual extent of afflictive visitations of this kind ; 
 an extent, of which he fears the gay and the fashionable of 
 higher localities in society, and the rich and prosperous of mer- 
 cantile communities, are but little sensible. 
 
 It remains only to make a few remarks on the existing law 
 respecting medical certificates of insanity. The fearful expo- 
 sures which, from time to time, have taken place of in- 
 stances, wherein the facility of granting such certificates has been 
 greatly abused, seem to render absolutely necessary a revision of 
 the whole of this question of medical jurisprudence. He cannot 
 forbear again referring his reader to a recent debate in the House 
 of Commons, on Lord Ashley's moving the further progress of 
 his Lunacy Bill. Facts were then stated sufficient to show the 
 imperative necessity of revising the present law ; particularly as 
 it affects the subjecting any person to the arbitrary power of a 
 medical certificate, without sufficient previous inquiry. He will 
 indeed be truly rejoiced to find, that that philanthropic nobleman, 
 Lord Ashley, has anticipated his views, by inserting a clause for 
 the protection of persons alleged to be insane, and consigned 
 upon insufficient evidence, on the judgment of two medical men, 
 to uncertain periods of confinement. Should unhappily, how- 
 ever, such not prove to be the case, most earnestly does the 
 Author hope, that not a session may be lost in introducing 
 some legislative measure upon the subject. 
 
 To the real Christian — to the humble and devoted follower of 
 the Divine Exemplar of all virtue — Christ ; — to him who prayer- 
 fully reads his heart, as well as his Bible — there is nothing either 
 in the present condition of the world around him, or in the con- 
 tingent prospects to which the minstrel has ventured to allude,
 
 302 CONCLUDING NOTE. 
 
 which should, for a moment, disturb his own calm and unwaver- 
 ing reliance on that Divine promise; — "All things shall work 
 together for good to them that love the Lord." 
 
 "This having learn'd, thou hast attain'd the sum 
 
 Of \\ isdom : hope no higher, though all the stars 
 
 Thou know 'st by name, and al! the ethereal power, 
 
 All secrets of the deep, all Nature's works, 
 
 Or works of God in heaven, air, earth, or sea, 
 
 And all the riches of this world enjoy'dst, 
 
 And all the rule, one empire; only add 
 
 Deeds to thy knowledge answerable ; add faith, 
 
 Add virtue, patience, temperance ; add love, 
 
 By name to come called charity, the soul 
 
 Of all the rest : — then wilt thou not be loth 
 
 To leave this paradise, but shall possess 
 
 A Paradise within thee, happier far!" 
 
 Milton. 
 
 s 
 
 London : Printed by Stewabt and Murray, Old Bailey.