And he was ready with his friends to run; When he, partaking with a chosen few, Felt the great change, sensation rich and new? No! all is lost; her favours Fortune shower'd Upon the man, and he is overpower'd; The world has won him with its tempting store Of needless wealth, and that has made him poor: Success undoes him; he has risen to fall, Has gain'd a fortune, and has lost his all; Gone back from Sion, he will find his age Loth to commence a second pilgrimage; He has retreated from the chosen track, And now must ever bear the burden on his back." Hurt by such censure, John began to find Fresh revolutions working in his mind; He sought for comfort in his books, but read Without a plan or method in his head; What once amused, now rather made him sad; What should inform, increased the doubts he had; Shame would not let him seek at Church a guide, And from his Meeting he was held by pride; His wife derided fears she never felt, And passing brethren daily censures dealt; Hope for a son was now for ever past, He was the first John Dighton and the last; His stomach fail'd, his case the doctor knew, But said, "he still might hold a year or two." "No more!" he said; "but why should I complain? A life of doubt must be a life of pain: Could I be sure--but why should I despair? I'm sure my conduct has been just and fair; In youth, indeed, I had a wicked will, But I repented, and have sorrow still: I had my comforts, and a growing trade Gave greater pleasure than a fortune made; And as I more possess'd, and reason'd more, I lost those comforts I enjoy'd before, When reverend guides I saw my table round, And in my guardian guest my safety found: Now sick and sad, no appetite, no ease, Nor pleasures have I, nor a wish to please; Nor views, nor hopes, nor plans, nor taste have I; Yet, sick of life, have no desire to die." He said, and died: his trade, his name is gone, And all that once gave consequence to John. Unhappy Dighton! had he found a friend When conscience told him it was time to mend - A friend descreet, considerate, kind, sincere, Who would have shown the grounds of hope and fear, And proved that spirits, whether high or low, No certain tokens of man's safety show - Had Reason ruled him in her proper place, And Virtue led him while he lean'd on grace - Had he while zealous been discreet and pure, His knowledge humble, and his hope secure; - These guides had placed him on the solid rock, Where Faith had rested, nor received a shock; But his, alas! was placed upon the sand, Where long it stood not, and where none can stand. TALE XX. THE BROTHERS. A brother noble, Whose nature is so far from doing harms, That he suspects none; on whose foolish honesty My practice may ride easy. SHAKESPEARE, King Lear. He lets me feed with hinds, Bars me the place of brother. As You Like It.