Great was the danger of a man so prone To think of madness, and to think alone; Yet pride still lived, and struggled to sustain The drooping spirit and the roving brain; But this too fail'd: a Friend his freedom gave, And sent him help the threat'ning world to brave; Gave solid counsel what to seek or flee, But still would stranger to his person be: In vain! the truth determined to explore, He traced the Friend whom he had wrong'd before. This was too much; both aided and advised By one who shunn'd him, pitied, and despised: He bore it not; 'twas a deciding stroke, And on his reason like a torrent broke: In dreadful stillness he appear'd a while, With vacant horror and a ghastly smile; Then rose at once into the frantic rage, That force controlled not, nor could love assuage. Friends now appear'd, but in the Man was seen The angry Maniac, with vindictive mien; Too late their pity gave to care and skill The hurried mind and ever-wandering will: Unnoticed pass'd all time, and not a ray Of reason broke on his benighted way; But now he spurn'd the straw in pure disdain, And now laugh'd loudly at the clinking chain. Then, as its wrath subsided by degrees, The mind sank slowly to infantine ease, To playful folly, and to causeless joy, Speech without aim, and without end, employ; He drew fantastic figures on the wall, And gave some wild relation of them all; With brutal shape he join'd the human face, And idiot smiles approved the motley race. Harmless at length th' unhappy man was found, The spirit settled, but the reason drown'd; And all the dreadful tempest died away To the dull stillness of the misty day. And now his freedom he attain'd--if free The lost to reason, truth, and hope, can be; His friends, or wearied with the charge, or sure The harmless wretch was now beyond a cure, Gave him to wander where he pleased, and find His own resources for the eager mind: The playful children of the place he meets, Playful with them he rambles through the streets; In all they need, his stronger arm he lends, And his lost mind to these approving friends. That gentle Maid, whom once the Youth had loved, Is now with mild religious pity moved; Kindly she chides his boyish flights, while he Will for a moment fix'd and pensive be; And as she trembling speaks, his lively eyes Explore her looks, he listens to her sighs; Charm'd by her voice, th' harmonious sounds invade His clouded mind, and for a time persuade: Like a pleased infant, who has newly caught From the maternal glance a gleam of thought, He stands enrapt, the half-known voice to hear, And starts, half conscious, at the falling tear. Rarely from town, nor then unwatch'd, he goes, In darker mood, as if to hide his woes; Returning soon, he with impatience seeks His youthful friends, and shouts, and sings, and speaks; Speaks a wild speech with action all is wild - The children's leader, and himself a child; He spins their top, or, at their bidding, bends