Must you, my friends, no longer stay? Thus quickly all my pleasures end; But I'll remember, when I pray, 390 My kind physician and his friend; And those sad hours you deign to spend With me, I shall requite them all; Sir Eustace for his friends shall send, And thank their love at Greyling Hall. VISITOR. The poor Sir Eustace!--Yet his hope Leads him to think of joys again; And when his earthly visions droop, His views of heavenly kind remain.-- But whence that meek and humbled strain, 400 That spirit wounded, lost, resign'd? Would not so proud a soul disdain The madness of the poorest mind? PHYSICIAN. No! for the more he swell'd with pride, The more he felt misfortune's blow; Disgrace and grief he could not hide, And poverty had laid him low: Thus shame and sorrow working slow, At length this humble spirit gave; Madness on these began to grow, 410 And bound him to his fiends a slave. Though the wild thoughts had touch'd his brain, Then was he free.--So, forth he ran; To soothe or threat, alike were vain: He spake of fiends; look'd wild and wan; Year after year, the hurried man Obey'd those fiends from place to place; Till his religious change began To form a frenzied child of grace. For, as the fury lost its strength, 420 The mind reposed; by slow degrees Came lingering hope, and brought at length, To the tormented spirit ease: This slave of sin, whom fiends could seize, Felt or believed their power had end;-- "'Tis faith," he cried, "my bosom frees, And now my SAVIOUR is my friend." But ah! though time can yield relief, And soften woes it cannot cure, Would we not suffer pain and grief, 430 To have our reason sound and sure? Then let us keep our bosoms pure, Our fancy's favourite flights suppress; Prepare the body to endure, And bend the mind to meet distress; And then HIS guardian care implore, Whom demons dread and men adore. NOTES TO SIR EUSTACE GREY. [27] Note 1, p. 243, line 161. _To whom the Watcher cried aloud._ Prophecy of Daniel, chap. iv. 22 [and 23]. [28] Note 2, page 243, line 188. _Then those ill-favour'd Ones, &c._ Vide Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress [Part II.]. [29] Note 3, page 248, line 347. _And thus the sainted preacher cries._