Yet something guides me, and guides me aright—
Is mesmerism the nonsense I thought?
If the brain, engross'd by a single fact,
Fails the whole army of nerves to sustain,
The outposts perhaps, refusing to act,
Transmit neither sight nor sound to the brain.
But are souls dependent on eye and ear?
Does nothing come straight to them from above?
Are there no spirit-instincts, to see and hear,
And no miraculous power of Love?