No more discerns the bounds of right and wrong:
Lost, in the mist of fear, her Heavenly Guide,
She deems all efforts vain, and sinks beneath the tide.

"But shrink not thou from earth's malignant power!
Hope builds on high an everlasting tower;
And strength divine supports the suffering good,
As lasting ramparts break the torrent-flood.

"Sustain'd by this, with resolute control
The Mental Hero curbs his struggling soul,
Bids with new fire his pure affections glow,
And calls his lingering wishes from below.
Refined by slow degrees, his passions rise,
Soar from the earth, and gain upon the skies.
A light, unbought by all the joys of Sin,
Cheers his wide soul, and brightens all within:
And, though mankind his pious peace molest,
And mock the sigh that struggles half suppress'd;
Tho', leagued with man, the hostile powers of hell
Bid round his head the maddening tempest swell;
For ever fix'd on worlds beyond the pole,
Nought else can move his heaven-directed soul.
'Tis his with tearless fortitude to feel
The bigot fury of a tyrant's steel;
'Tis his with cool untempted eye to gaze
On Wealth's bright pomp, and Beauty's brighter blaze:
And, as the stream its equal current leads
Thro' dusky forests and thro' flowery meads,
Serene he treads Misfortune's thorny soil,