“None but the very same, Which I on all mankind, were I, as he, Fall’n to such deep reverse. His melody Is interrupted; now we hear the din Of madmen, shriek on shriek, again begin; Let us now visit him: after this strain He ever communes with himself again, And sees and hears not any.” Having said These words, we called the keeper: and he led To an apartment opening on the sea— There the poor wretch was sitting mournfully Near a piano, his pale fingers twined One with the other; and the ooze and wind Rushed through an open casement, and did sway His hair, and starred it with the brackish spray: His head was leaning on a music-book, And he was muttering; and his lean limbs shook; His lips were pressed against a folded leaf, In hue too beautiful for health, and grief Smiled in their motions as they lay apart, As one who wrought from his own fervid heart The eloquence of passion: soon he raised His sad meek face, and eyes lustrous and glazed, And spoke,—sometimes as one who wrote and thought His words might move some heart that heeded not, If sent to distant lands;—and then as one Reproaching deeds never to be undone, With wondering self-compassion; then his speech Was lost in grief, and then his words came each Unmodulated and expressionless,— But that from one jarred accent you might guess It was despair made them so uniform: And all the while the loud and gusty storm Hissed through the window; and we stood behind, Stealing his accents from the envious wind, Unseen. I yet remember what he said Distinctly—such impression his words made.’ And casual illustrations—unconscious metaphors, showing a terrible familiarity—are borrowed from insanity in his subsequent works. This strange story is in various ways deeply illustrative of his character. It shows how the impulsive temperament, not definitely intending evil, is hurried forward, so to say, _over_ actions and crimes which would seem to indicate deep depravity—which would do so in ordinary human nature, but which do not indicate in it anything like the same degree of guilt. Driven by singular passion across a tainted region, it retains no taint; on a sudden it passes through evil, but preserves its purity. So curious is this character, that a record of its actions may read like a libel on its life.