And thus was left to languish and repent; No school nor clerkship found he in the place, Now lost to fortune, as before to grace. For town-relief the grieving man applied, And begg'd with tears what some with scorn denied; Others look'd down upon the glowing vest, And frowning, ask'd him at what price he dress'd? Happy for him his country's laws are mild, They must support him, though they still reviled; Grieved, abject, scorn'd, insulted, and betray'd, Of God unmindful, and of man afraid, - No more he talk'd; 'twas pain, 'twas shame to speak, His heart was sinking, and his frame was weak. His sister died with such serene delight, He once again began to think her right; Poor like himself, the happy spinster lay, And sweet assurance bless'd her dying-day: Poor like the spinster, he, when death was nigh, Assured of nothing, felt afraid to die. The cheerful clerks who sometimes pass'd the door, Just mention'd "Abel!" and then thought no more. So Abel, pondering on his state forlorn, Look'd round for comfort, and was chased by scorn. And now we saw him on the beach reclined, Or causeless walking in the wintry wind; And when it raised a loud and angry sea, He stood and gazed, in wretched reverie: He heeded not the frost, the rain, the snow, Close by the sea he walk'd alone and slow: Sometimes his frame through many an hour he spread Upon a tombstone, moveless as the dead; And was there found a sad and silent place, There would he creep with slow and measured pace; Then would he wander by the river's side, And fix his eyes upon the falling tide; The deep dry ditch, the rushes in the fen, And mossy crag-pits were his lodgings then: There, to his discontented thought a prey, The melancholy mortal pined away. The neighb'ring poor at length began to speak Of Abel's ramblings--he'd been gone a week; They knew not where, and little care they took For one so friendless and so poor to look. At last a stranger, in a pedlar's shed, Beheld him hanging--he had long been dead. He left a paper, penn'd at sundry times, Entitled thus--"My Groanings and my Crimes!" "I was a Christian man, and none could lay Aught to my charge; I walk'd the narrow way: All then was simple faith, serene and pure, My hope was stedfast and my prospects sure; Then was I tried by want and sickness sore, But these I clapp'd my shield of faith before, And cares and wants and man's rebukes I bore: Alas! new foes assail'd me; I was vain, They stung my pride and they confused my brain: Oh! these deluders! with what glee they saw Their simple dupe transgress the righteous law; 'Twas joy to them to view that dreadful strife, When faith and frailty warr'd for more than life; So with their pleasures they beguiled the heart, Then with their logic they allay'd the smart; They proved (so thought I then) with reasons strong, That no man's feelings ever lead him wrong: And thus I went, as on the varnish'd ice, The smooth career of unbelief and vice.