THE DUNGEON.
Circled with evil, till his very soul
His energies roll back upon his heart,
And friendless solitude, groaning and tears,
Then we call in our pamperd mountebanks--
And stagnate and corrupt; till changed to poison,
Thy99lib•net melodies of woods, and winds, and waters,
This is the process of our love and wisdom,
And this is their best cure! uncomforted
Most innocent, perhaps--and what if guilty?
His angry spirit healed and harm99lib.netonized
Amid this general dance and minstrelsy;
By sights of ever more deformity!
Thou pourest on him thy soft in?uences,
THE DUNGEON.
By ignorance and parching poverty,
With other ministrations th
藏书网
ou, O nature!And this place our forefathers made for man!
Till he relent, and can no more endure
Unmoulds its essence, hopelessly deformed
They break out on him, like a loathsome plague-spot;
By the lamps dismal twi九_九_藏_书_网light! So he lies
By the benignant touch of love and beauty.
And savage faces, at the clanking hour,
Healest thy wandering and distempered child:
Each pore and natural outlet shrivelld up
Is this the only cure? Merciful God九九藏书网?
To each poor brother who offends against us--
But, bursting into tears, wins back his way,
Seen through the steams and vapour of his dungeon,
Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets,
To be a jarring and a dissonant thing,