A multitude of causes unknown to former times are now acting with a combined force to blunt the discriminating powers of the mind, and unfitting it for all voluntary exertion to reduce it to a state of almost savage torpor.

A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.

Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretch'd in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

In heaven above, And earth below, they best can serve true gladness Who meet most feelingly the calls of sadness.

I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous boy, The sleepless soul that perished in his pride; Of him who walked in glory and in joy, Following his plough, along the mountain-side. By our own spirits we are deified; We Poets in our youth begin in gladness, But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.

Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven.

The fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world Have hung upon the beatings of my heart.