Page:The Art of Preserving Health - A Poem in Four Books.djvu/117

B. IV. Sour Melancholy, night and day provokes Her own eternal wound. The sun grows pale; A mournful visionary light o'erspreads The chearful face of nature: earth becomes A dreary desart, and heaven frowns above. Then various shapes of curs'd illusion rise; Whate'er the wretched fears, creating Fear Forms out of nothing; and with monsters teems Unknown in hell. The prostrate soul beneath A load of huge imagination heaves. And all the horrors, that the guilty feel, With anxious flutterings wake the guiltless breast.

Such phantoms Pride in solitary scenes, Or Fear, on delicate Self-love creates. From other cares absolv'd, the busy mind Finds in yourself a theme to pore upon; It finds you miserable, or makes you so. Rh