WRITTEN
WHEN
THE
MIND
WAS
OPPRESSED
.
WANDERING
amid
the
horrors
of
the
night
,
Musing
,
my
sighs
mix
with
the
whistling
wind
,
Dim
watery
shadows
shroud
my
feeble
sight
,
And
deep
reflection
fills
my
labouring
mind
.
Alone
,
amid
the
deadly
midnight
glooms
,
I
hear
the
winds
rush
wildly
through
the
waste
,
My
strengthen'd
soul
its
various
powers
assumes
,
While
painful
feelings
agitate
my
breast
.
"
Alas
!
"
I
thought
,
"
Where
tends
this
toil
of
life
,
"
Unhappy
,
vain
,
delusive
,
frail
,
and
short
,
"
Envelop'd
'mid
disease
,
death
,
sin
,
and
strife
,
"
As
if
weak
man
was
his
Creator's
sport
?
"
Beneath
the
thunder
on
the
desert
strand
,
I
listen
to
the
solemn
ocean's
roar
,
Aw'd
by
the
powerful
elements
I
stand
,
And
'mid
their
fierce
convulsions
Heaven
adore
.
But
the
more
fatal
storms
which
rage
within
With
stronger
fears
my
youthful
mind
dismay
;
Follies
and
passions
,
which
engender
sin
,
Assail
the
soul
,
and
on
the
reason
prey
.
To
Nature's
sweet
enchantments
wak'd
from
nought
,
Chaos
impenetrably
dark
behind
,
Early
possess'd
of
consciousness
and
thought
,
Impell'd
by
passions
of
a
new-born
mind
.
Borne
on
by
hope
,
our
youthful
transports
fly
;
Absolute
pain
alone
we
deem
an
ill
,
Unknowing
that
those
dreary
voids
are
nigh
Which
restless
apathy
alone
may
fill
.
We
dream
not
,
that
,
as
blooms
each
flower
or
tree
,
We
blossom
,
shoot
,
improve
,
but
to
decay
,
Some
new-felt
pleasure
springs
from
all
we
see
,
Till
rapid
time
doth
Nature's
truths
display
.
Yet
'midst
this
beauteous
world
our
sweeten'd
state
Would
smile
,
when
sooth'd
by
friendship's
kindly
breath
;
But
a
drear
darkness
terminates
our
fate
,
And
every
human
bosom
starts
from
death
.