Then came fresh terrors on our hero’s mind -
Fears unforeseen, and feelings undefined.
“In outward ills,” he cried, “I rest assured
Of my friend’s aid; they will in time be cured;
But can his art subdue, resist, control
These inward griefs and troubles of the soul?
Oh! my Rebecca! my disorder’d mind
No help in study, none in thought can find;
What must I do, Rebecca?” She proposed
The Parish-guide; but what could be disclosed