SIR
EUSTACE
GREY
.
"
Veris
miscens
falsa
.
"
—
Seneca
,
in
Herc.
furente
.
SCENE
—
A
MAD-HOUSE
.
PERSONS
.
—
VISITOR
,
PHYSICIAN
,
AND
PATIENT
.
VISITOR
.
I'll
know
no
more
;
—
the
heart
is
torn
By
views
of
wo
,
we
cannot
heal
;
Long
shall
I
see
these
things
forlorn
,
And
oft
again
their
griefs
shall
feel
,
As
each
upon
the
mind
shall
steal
;
That
wan
projector's
mystic
style
,
That
lumpish
idiot
leering
by
,
That
peevish
idler's
ceaseless
wile
,
And
that
poor
maiden's
half-form'd
smile
,
While
struggling
for
the
full-drawn
sigh
!
—
I'll
know
no
more
.
PHYSICIAN
.
—
Yes
,
turn
again
;
Then
speed
to
happier
scenes
thy
way
,
When
thou
hast
view'd
,
what
yet
remain
,
The
ruins
of
Sir
Eustace
Grey
,
The
sport
of
madness
,
misery's
prey
:
But
he
will
no
historian
need
,
His
cares
,
his
crimes
,
will
he
display
,
And
show
(
as
one
from
frenzy
freed
)
The
proud
lost
mind
,
the
rash-done
deed
.
That
cell
to
him
is
Greyling
Hall
:
—
Approach
;
he'll
bid
thee
welcome
there
;
Will
sometimes
for
his
servant
call
,
And
sometimes
point
the
vacant
chair
;
He
can
,
with
free
and
easy
air
,
Appear
attentive
and
polite
;
Can
veil
his
woes
in
manners
fair
,
And
pity
with
respect
excite
.
PATIENT
.
Who
comes
?
—
Approach
!
—
'tis
kindly
done
:
—
My
learn'd
physician
,
and
a
friend
,
Their
pleasures
quit
,
to
visit
one
Who
cannot
to
their
ease
attend
,
Nor
joys
bestow
,
nor
comforts
lend
,
As
when
I
lived
so
blest
,
so
well
,
And
dreamt
not
I
must
soon
contend
With
those
malignant
powers
of
hell
.
PHYSICIAN
.
"
Less
warmth
,
Sir
Eustace
,
or
we
go
.
"
—
PATIENT
.
See!
I
am
calm
as
infant-love
,
A
very
child
,
but
one
of
wo
,
Whom
you
should
pity
,
not
reprove
:
—
But
men
at
ease
,
who
never
strove
With
passions
wild
,
will
calmly
show
,
How
soon
we
may
their
ills
remove
,
And
masters
of
their
madness
grow
.
Some
twenty
years
,
I
think
,
are
gone
,
—
(
Time
flies
,
I
know
not
how
,
away
,
)
The
sun
upon
no
happier
shone
,
Nor
prouder
man
,
than
Eustace
Grey
.
Ask
where
you
would
,
and
all
would
say
,
The
man
admired
and
praised
of
all
,
By
rich
and
poor
,
by
grave
and
gay
,
Was
the
young
lord
of
Greyling
Hall
.
Yes
!
I
had
youth
and
rosy
health
;
Was
nobly
form'd
,
as
man
might
be
;
For
sickness
,
then
,
of
all
my
wealth
,
I
never
gave
a
single
fee
:
The
ladies
fair
,
the
maidens
free
,
Were
all
accustom'd
then
to
say
,
Who
would
a
handsome
figure
see
Should
look
upon
Sir
Eustace
Grey
.
He
had
a
frank
and
pleasant
look
,
A
cheerful
eye
and
accent
bland
;
His
very
speech
and
manner
spoke
The
generous
heart
,
the
open
hand
;
About
him
all
was
gay
or
grand
,
He
had
the
praise
of
great
and
small
;
He
bought
,
improved
,
projected
,
plann'd
,
And
reign'd
a
prince
at
Greyling
Hall
.
My
lady
!
—
she
was
all
we
love
;
All
praise
(
to
speak
her
worth
)
is
faint
;
Her
manners
show'd
the
yielding
dove
,
Her
morals
,
the
seraphic
saint
:
She
never
breath'd
nor
look'd
complaint
;
No
equal
upon
earth
had
she
:
—
Now
,
what
is
this
fair
thing
I
paint
?
Alas
!
as
all
that
live
shall
be
.
There
was
,
beside
,
a
gallant
youth
,
And
him
my
bosom's
friend
,
I
had
;
—
Oh!
I
was
rich
in
very
truth
,
It
made
me
proud
—
it
made
me
mad
!
—
Yes
,
I
was
lost
—
but
there
was
cause
!
—
Where
stood
my
tale
?
—
I
cannot
find
—
But
I
had
all
mankind's
applause
,
And
all
the
smiles
of
womankind
.
There
were
two
cherub-things
beside
,
A
gracious
girl
,
a
glorious
boy
;
Yet
more
to
swell
my
full-blown
pride
,
To
varnish
higher
my
fading
joy
,
Pleasures
were
ours
without
alloy
,
Nay
,
Paradise
,
—
till
my
frail
Eve
Our
bliss
was
tempted
to
destroy
—
Deceived
and
fated
to
deceive
.
But
I
deserved
;
—
for
all
that
time
,
When
I
was
loved
,
admired
,
caress'd
,
There
was
within
,
each
secret
crime
,
Unfelt
,
uncancell'd
,
unconfess'd
:
I
never
then
my
God
address'd
,
In
grateful
praise
or
humble
prayer
;
And
if
His
Word
was
not
my
jest
—
(
Dread
thought
!
)
it
never
was
my
care
.
I
doubted
:
—
fool
I
was
to
doubt
!
If
that
all-piercing
eye
could
see
,
—
If
He
who
looks
all
worlds
throughout
,
Would
so
minute
and
careful
be
,
As
to
perceive
and
punish
me
:
—
With
man
I
would
be
great
and
high
,
But
with
my
God
so
lost
,
that
He
,
In
his
large
view
,
should
pass
me
by
.
Thus
blest
with
children
,
friend
,
and
wife
,
Blest
far
beyond
the
vulgar
lot
;
Of
all
that
gladdens
human
life
,
Where
was
the
good
,
that
I
had
not
?
But
my
vile
heart
had
sinful
spot
,
And
Heaven
beheld
its
deep'ning
stain
;
Eternal
justice
I
forgot
,
And
mercy
sought
not
to
obtain
.
Come
near
,
—
I'll
softly
speak
the
rest
!
—
Alas
!
't
is
known
to
all
the
crowd
,
Her
guilty
love
was
all
confess'd
;
And
his
,
who
so
much
truth
avow'd
,
My
faithless
friend's
.
—
In
pleasure
proud
I
sat
,
when
these
cursed
tidings
came
;
Their
guilt
,
their
flight
was
told
aloud
,
And
Envy
smiled
to
hear
my
shame
!
I
call'd
on
Vengeance
;
at
the
word
She
came
:
—
Can
I
the
deed
forget
?
I
held
the
sword
—
the
accursed
sword
The
blood
of
his
false
heart
made
wet
;
And
that
fair
victim
paid
her
debt
,
She
pined
,
she
died
,
she
loath'd
to
live
;
—
I
saw
her
dying
—
see
her
yet
:
Fair
fallen
thing
!
my
rage
forgive
!
Those
cherubs
still
,
my
life
to
bless
,
Were
left
;
could
I
my
fears
remove
,
Sad
fears
that
check'd
each
fond
caress
,
And
poison'd
all
parental
love
?
Yet
that
with
jealous
feelings
strove
,
And
would
at
last
have
won
my
will
,
Had
I
not
,
wretch
!
been
doom'd
to
prove
Th'
extremes
of
mortal
good
and
ill
.
In
youth
!
health
!
joy
!
in
beauty's
pride
!
They
droop'd
—
as
flowers
when
blighted
bow
;
The
dire
infection
came
:
—
they
died
,
And
I
was
cursed
—
as
I
am
now
—
Nay
,
frown
not
,
angry
friend
,
—
allow
That
I
was
deeply
,
sorely
tried
;
Hear
then
,
and
you
must
wonder
how
I
could
such
storms
and
strifes
abide
.
Storms
!
—
not
that
clouds
embattled
make
,
When
they
afflict
this
earthly
globe
;
But
such
as
with
their
terrors
shake
Man's
breast
,
and
to
the
bottom
probe
;
They
make
the
hypocrite
disrobe
,
They
try
us
all
,
if
false
or
true
;
For
this
one
Devil
had
power
on
Job
;
And
I
was
long
the
slave
of
two
.
PHYSICIAN
.
Peace
,
peace
,
my
friend
;
these
subjects
fly
;
Collect
thy
thoughts
—
go
calmly
on
.
—
PATIENT
.
And
shall
I
then
the
fact
deny
?
I
was
,
—
thou
know'st
,
—
I
was
begone
,
Like
him
who
fill'd
the
eastern
throne
,
To
whom
the
Watcher
cried
aloud
;
That
royal
wretch
of
Babylon
,
Who
was
so
guilty
and
so
proud
.
Like
him
,
with
haughty
,
stubborn
mind
,
I
,
in
my
state
,
my
comforts
sought
;
Delight
and
praise
I
hoped
to
find
,
In
what
I
builded
,
planted
,
bought
!
Oh!
arrogance
!
by
misery
taught
—
Soon
came
a
voice
!
I
felt
it
come
;
"
Full
be
his
cup
,
with
evil
fraught
,
"
Demons
his
guides
,
and
death
his
doom
!
"
Then
was
I
cast
from
out
my
state
;
Two
fiends
of
darkness
led
my
way
;
They
waked
me
early
,
watch'd
me
late
,
My
dread
by
night
,
my
plague
by
day
!
Oh!
I
was
made
their
sport
,
their
play
,
Through
many
a
stormy
troubled
year
;
And
how
they
used
their
passive
prey
Is
sad
to
tell
:
—
but
you
shall
hear
.
And
first
before
they
sent
me
forth
,
Through
this
unpitying
world
to
run
,
They
robb'd
Sir
Eustace
of
his
worth
,
Lands
,
manors
,
lordships
,
every
one
;
So
was
that
gracious
man
undone
,
Was
spurn'd
as
vile
,
was
scorn'd
as
poor
,
Whom
every
former
friend
would
shun
,
And
menials
drove
from
every
door
.
Then
those
ill-favour'd
Ones
,
whom
none
But
my
unhappy
eyes
could
view
,
Led
me
,
with
wild
emotion
,
on
,
And
,
with
resistless
terror
,
drew
.
Through
lands
we
fled
,
o'er
seas
we
flew
,
And
halted
on
a
boundless
plain
;
Where
nothing
fed
,
nor
breathed
,
nor
grew
,
But
silence
ruled
the
still
domain
.
Upon
that
boundless
plain
,
below
,
The
setting
sun's
last
rays
were
shed
,
And
gave
a
mild
and
sober
glow
,
Where
all
were
still
,
asleep
,
or
dead
;
Vast
ruins
in
the
midst
were
spread
,
Pillars
and
pediments
sublime
,
Where
the
grey
moss
had
form'd
a
bed
,
And
clothed
the
crumbling
spoils
of
time
.
There
was
I
fix'd
,
I
know
not
how
,
Condemn'd
for
untold
years
to
stay
:
Yet
years
were
not
;
—
one
dreadful
Now
Endured
no
change
of
night
or
day
;
The
same
mild
evening's
sleeping
ray
Shone
softly
solemn
and
serene
,
And
all
that
time
I
gazed
away
,
The
setting
sun's
sad
rays
were
seen
.
At
length
a
moment's
sleep
stole
on
,
—
Again
came
my
commission'd
foes
;
Again
through
sea
and
land
we're
gone
,
No
peace
,
no
respite
,
no
repose
:
Above
the
dark
broad
sea
we
rose
,
We
ran
through
bleak
and
frozen
land
;
I
had
no
strength
their
strength
t'oppose
,
An
infant
in
a
giant's
hand
.
They
placed
me
where
those
streamers
play
,
Those
nimble
beams
of
brilliant
light
;
It
would
the
stoutest
heart
dismay
,
To
see
,
to
feel
,
that
dreadful
sight
:
So
swift
,
so
pure
,
so
cold
,
so
bright
,
They
pierced
my
frame
with
icy
wound
;
And
all
that
half-year's
polar
night
,
Those
dancing
streamers
wrapp'd
me
round
.
Slowly
that
darkness
pass'd
away
,
When
down
upon
the
earth
I
fell
,
—
Some
hurried
sleep
was
mine
by
day
;
But
,
soon
as
toll'd
the
evening
bell
,
They
forced
me
on
,
where
ever
dwell
Far-distant
men
in
cities
fair
,
Cities
of
whom
no
travellers
tell
,
Nor
feet
but
mine
were
wanderers
there
.
Their
watchmen
stare
,
and
stand
aghast
,
As
on
we
hurry
through
the
dark
;
The
watch-light
blinks
as
we
go
past
,
The
watch-dog
shrinks
and
fears
to
bark
;
The
watch-tower's
bell
sounds
shrill
;
and
,
hark
!
The
free
wind
blows
—
we've
left
the
town
—
A
wide
sepulchral
ground
I
mark
,
And
on
a
tombstone
place
me
down
.
What
monuments
of
mighty
dead
!
What
tombs
of
various
kind
are
found
!
And
stones
erect
their
shadows
shed
On
humble
graves
,
with
wickers
bound
,
Some
risen
fresh
,
above
the
ground
,
Some
level
with
the
native
clay
:
What
sleeping
millions
wait
the
sound
,
"
Arise
,
ye
dead
,
and
come
away
!
"
Alas
!
they
stay
not
for
that
call
;
Spare
me
this
woe
!
ye
demons
,
spare
!
—
They
come
!
the
shrouded
shadows
all
,
—
'Tis
more
than
mortal
brain
can
bear
;
Rustling
they
rise
,
they
sternly
glare
At
man
upheld
by
vital
breath
;
Who
,
led
by
wicked
fiends
,
should
dare
To
join
the
shadowy
troops
of
death
!
Yes
,
I
have
felt
all
man
can
feel
,
Till
he
shall
pay
his
nature's
debt
;
Ills
that
no
hope
has
strength
to
heal
,
No
mind
the
comfort
to
forget
:
Whatever
cares
the
heart
can
fret
,
The
spirits
wear
,
the
temper
gall
,
Woe
,
want
,
dread
,
anguish
,
all
beset
My
sinful
soul
!
—
together
all
!
Those
fiends
upon
a
shaking
fen
Fix'd
me
,
in
dark
tempestuous
night
There
never
trod
the
foot
of
men
,
There
flock'd
the
fowl
in
wint'ry
flight
;
There
danced
the
moor's
deceitful
light
Above
the
pool
where
sedges
grow
;
And
when
the
morning-sun
shone
bright
,
It
shone
upon
a
field
of
snow
.
They
hung
me
on
a
bough
so
small
,
The
rook
could
build
her
nest
no
higher
;
They
fix'd
me
on
the
trembling
ball
That
crowns
the
steeple's
quiv'ring
spire
;
They
set
me
where
the
seas
retire
,
But
drown
with
their
returning
tide
;
And
made
me
flee
the
mountain's
fire
,
When
rolling
from
its
burning
side
.
I've
hung
upon
the
ridgy
steep
Of
cliffs
,
and
held
the
rambling
brier
I've
plunged
below
the
billowy
deep
,
Where
air
was
sent
me
to
respire
;
I've
been
where
hungry
wolves
retire
;
And
(
to
complete
my
woes
)
I've
ran
Where
Bedlam's
crazy
crew
conspire
Against
the
life
of
reasoning
man
.
I've
furl'd
in
storms
the
flapping
sail
,
By
hanging
from
the
topmast-head
;
I've
served
the
vilest
slaves
in
jail
,
And
pick'd
the
dunghill's
spoil
for
bread
;
I've
made
the
badger's
hole
my
bed
,
I've
wander'd
with
a
gipsy
crew
;
I've
dreaded
all
the
guilty
dread
,
And
done
what
they
would
fear
to
do
.
On
sand
,
where
ebbs
and
flows
the
flood
,
Midway
they
placed
and
bade
me
die
;
Propt
on
my
staff
,
I
stoutly
stood
When
the
swift
waves
came
rolling
by
;
And
high
they
rose
,
and
still
more
high
,
Till
my
lips
drank
the
bitter
brine
;
I
sobb'd
convulsed
,
then
cast
mine
eye
,
And
saw
the
tide's
re-flowing
sign
.
And
then
,
my
dreams
were
such
as
nought
Could
yield
but
my
unhappy
case
;
I've
been
of
thousand
devils
caught
,
And
thrust
into
that
horrid
place
,
Where
reign
dismay
,
despair
,
disgrace
;
Furies
with
iron
fangs
were
there
,
To
torture
that
accursed
race
,
Doom'd
to
dismay
,
disgrace
,
despair
.
Harmless
I
was
;
yet
hunted
down
For
treasons
,
to
my
soul
unfit
;
I've
been
pursued
through
many
a
town
,
For
crimes
that
petty
knaves
commit
;
I've
been
adjudged
t'
have
lost
my
wit
,
Because
I
preach'd
so
loud
and
well
;
And
thrown
into
the
dungeon's
pit
,
For
trampling
on
the
pit
of
hell
.
Such
were
the
evils
,
man
of
sin
,
That
I
was
fated
to
sustain
;
And
add
to
all
,
without
—
within
,
A
soul
defiled
with
every
stain
That
man's
reflecting
mind
can
pain
;
That
pride
,
wrong
,
rage
,
despair
,
can
make
;
In
fact
,
they'd
nearly
touch'd
my
brain
,
And
reason
on
her
throne
would
shake
.
But
pity
will
the
vilest
seek
,
If
punish'd
guilt
will
not
repine
,
—
I
heard
a
heavenly
Teacher
speak
,
And
felt
the
Sun
of
Mercy
shine
:
I
hail'd
the
light
!
the
birth
divine
!
And
then
was
seal'd
among
the
few
;
Those
angry
fiends
beheld
the
sign
,
And
from
me
in
an
instant
flew
.
Come
hear
how
thus
the
charmers
cry
To
wandering
sheep
,
the
strays
of
sin
,
While
some
the
wicket-gate
pass
by
,
And
some
will
knock
and
enter
in
:
Full
joyful
'tis
a
soul
to
win
,
For
he
that
winneth
souls
is
wise
;
Now
hark
!
the
holy
strains
begin
,
And
thus
the
sainted
preacher
cries
:
—
"
Pilgrim
,
burthen'd
with
thy
sin
,
"
Come
the
way
to
Zion's
gate
,
"
There
,
till
Mercy
let
thee
in
,
"
Knock
and
weep
and
watch
and
wait
.
"
Knock
!
—
He
knows
the
sinner's
cry
:
"
Weep
!
—
He
loves
the
mourner's
tears
:
"
Watch
!
—
for
saving
grace
is
nigh
:
"
Wait
,
—
till
heavenly
light
appears
.
"
Hark!
it
is
the
Bridegroom's
voice
;
"
Welcome
,
pilgrim
,
to
thy
rest
;
"
Now
within
the
gate
rejoice
,
"
Safe
and
seal'd
and
bought
and
blest
!
"
Safe
—
from
all
the
lures
of
vice
,
"
Seal'd
—
by
signs
the
chosen
know
,
"
Bought
—
by
love
and
life
the
price
,
"
Blest
—
the
mighty
debt
to
owe
.
"
Holy
Pilgrim
!
what
for
thee
"
In
a
world
like
this
remain
?
"
From
thy
guarded
breast
shall
flee
"
Fear
and
shame
,
and
doubt
and
pain
.
"
Fear
—
the
hope
of
Heaven
shall
fly
,
"
Shame
—
from
glory's
view
retire
,
"
Doubt
—
in
certain
rapture
die
,
"
Pain
—
in
endless
bliss
expire
.
"
But
though
my
day
of
grace
was
come
,
Yet
still
my
days
of
grief
I
find
;
The
former
clouds
'
collected
gloom
Still
sadden
the
reflecting
mind
;
The
soul
,
to
evil
things
consign'd
,
Will
of
their
evil
some
retain
;
The
man
will
seem
to
earth
inclined
,
And
will
not
look
erect
again
.
Thus
,
though
elect
,
I
feel
it
hard
To
lose
what
I
possess'd
before
,
To
be
from
all
my
wealth
debarr'd
,
—
The
brave
Sir
Eustace
is
no
more
:
But
old
I
wax
and
passing
poor
,
Stern
,
rugged
men
my
conduct
view
;
They
chide
my
wish
,
they
bar
my
door
,
'Tis
hard
—
I
weep
—
you
see
I
do
.
—
Must
you
,
my
friends
,
no
longer
stay
?
Thus
quickly
all
my
pleasures
end
;
But
I'll
remember
,
when
I
pray
,
My
kind
physician
and
his
friend
;
And
those
sad
hours
,
you
deign
to
spend
With
me
,
I
shall
requite
them
all
;
Sir
Eustace
for
his
friends
shall
send
,
And
thank
their
love
at
Greyling
Hall
.
VISITOR
.
The
poor
Sir
Eustace
!
—
Yet
his
hope
Leads
him
to
think
of
joys
again
;
And
when
his
earthly
visions
droop
,
His
views
of
heavenly
kind
remain
:
—
But
whence
that
meek
and
humbled
strain
,
That
spirit
wounded
,
lost
,
resign'd
?
Would
not
so
proud
a
soul
disdain
The
madness
of
the
poorest
mind
?
PHYSICIAN
.
No!
for
the
more
he
swell'd
with
pride
,
The
more
he
felt
misfortune's
blow
;
Disgrace
and
grief
he
could
not
hide
,
And
poverty
had
laid
him
low
:
Thus
shame
and
sorrow
working
slow
,
At
length
this
humble
spirit
gave
;
Madness
on
these
began
to
grow
,
And
bound
him
to
his
fiends
a
slave
.
Though
the
wild
thoughts
had
touch'd
his
brain
,
Then
was
he
free
:
—
So
,
forth
he
ran
;
To
soothe
or
threat
,
alike
were
vain
:
He
spake
of
fiends
;
look'd
wild
and
wan
;
Year
after
year
,
the
hurried
man
Obey'd
those
fiends
from
place
to
place
;
Till
his
religious
change
began
To
form
a
frenzied
child
of
grace
.
For
,
as
the
fury
lost
its
strength
,
The
mind
reposed
;
by
slow
degrees
Came
lingering
hope
,
and
brought
at
length
,
To
the
tormented
spirit
,
ease
:
This
slave
of
sin
,
whom
fiends
could
seize
,
Felt
or
believed
their
power
had
end
;
—
"
'Tis
faith
,
"
he
cried
,
"
my
bosom
frees
,
"
And
now
my
Saviour
is
my
friend
.
"
But
ah
!
though
time
can
yield
relief
,
And
soften
woes
it
cannot
cure
;
Would
we
not
suffer
pain
and
grief
,
To
have
our
reason
sound
and
sure
?
Then
let
us
keep
our
bosoms
pure
,
Our
fancy's
favourite
flights
suppress
;
Prepare
the
body
to
endure
,
And
bend
the
mind
to
meet
distress
;
And
then
his
guardian
care
implore
,
Whom
demons
dread
and
men
adore
.