Sought more in books and nature than by prayer;
And vain he sought, nor books nor nature gave
The hope of hopes that animates the grave! 
Though, to have felt that hope, he would have changed
His station with the mendicant who ranged
Homeless from door to door and begged his bread,
While heaven hurled its tempest round his head. 
For what is hunger, pain, or piercing wind,
To the eternal midnight of the mind? 
Or what on earth a horror can impart,
Like his who feels engraven on his heart
The word, Annihilation! Often now
The sad Enthusiast would strike his brow,
And cry aloud, with deep and bitter groans,
“How have I sinned, that both my little ones—­
The children of my heart—­should be struck down! 
O Thou Almighty Spirit! if thy frown
Is now upon me, turn aside thy wrath,
And guide me—­lead, oh lead me in the path
Of heaven’s own truth; direct my faith aright,
Teach me to hope, and lend thy Spirit’s light.”

XIV.

Thus, long his soul as a frail bark was tossed
On a dark sea, with helm and compass lost,
Till she who ever to his breast had been
The star of hope and love, with brow serene,
As if no sorrow e’er her heart had riven,
But her eye calmly looked through time to heaven—­
Soothed his sad spirit, and with anxious care
Used much of reason, and yet more of prayer;
Till bright’ning hope dawned gently o’er his soul,
Like the sun’s shadow at the freezing pole,
Seen by the shiv’ring Greenlander, or e’er
Its front of fire does his horizon cheer;
While brighter still that ardent hope became,
Till in his bosom glowed the living flame
Of Christian faith—­faith in the Saviour sent,
By the eternal God, to preach, “Repent
And be ye saved.”—–­Then peace, as sunshine, fell
On the Enthusiast’s bosom, and the swell
Of anguish died away, as o’er the deep
The waves lie down when winds and tempests sleep.

XV.

Time glided on, and wedded joys still grew
As beauty deepens on an autumn view
With tinges rich as heaven! and, though less green,
More holy far than summer’s fairest scene. 
Now o’er the happy pair, at life’s calm eve
Age like a shadow fell, and seemed to weave
So fair a twilight round each silvered brow,
That they ne’er felt so young, so blest as now;
Though threescore winters o’er their path had fled,
And left the snow of years on either head. 
For age drew round them, but they knew it not—­
The once bright face of youth was half forgot;
But still the young, the unchanged heart was there,
And still his aged Helen seemed as fair
As when, with throbbing heart and giddy bliss,
He from her lips first snatched the virgin kiss!

XVI.