X.

'Twere vain to paint to what his feelings grew-- It even were doubtful if their victim knew. There is a war, a chaos of the mind,[220] When all its elements convulsed, combined Lie dark and jarring with perturbéd force, And gnashing with impenitent Remorse-- That juggling fiend, who never spake before, But cries "I warned thee!" when the deed is o'er. Vain voice! the spirit burning but unbent, 940 May writhe--rebel--the weak alone repent! Even in that lonely hour when most it feels, And, to itself, all--all that self reveals,-- No single passion, and no ruling thought That leaves the rest, as once, unseen, unsought, But the wild prospect when the Soul reviews, _All_ rushing through their thousand avenues-- Ambition's dreams expiring, Love's regret, Endangered Glory, Life itself beset; The joy untasted, the contempt or hate 950 'Gainst those who fain would triumph in our fate; The hopeless past, the hasting future driven Too quickly on to guess if Hell or Heaven; Deeds--thoughts--and words, perhaps remembered not So keenly till that hour, but ne'er forgot; Things light or lovely in their acted time, But now to stern Reflection each a crime; The withering sense of Evil unrevealed, Not cankering less because the more concealed; All, in a word, from which all eyes must start, 960 That opening sepulchre, the naked heart[221] Bares with its buried woes--till Pride awake, To snatch the mirror from the soul, and break. Aye, Pride can veil, and Courage brave it all-- All--all--before--beyond--the deadliest fall. Each hath some fear, and he who least betrays, The only hypocrite deserving praise: Not the loud recreant wretch who boasts and flies; But he who looks on Death--and silent dies: So, steeled by pondering o'er his far career, 970 He half-way meets Him should He menace near!