The young child, stricken as he played, and guileless babes unborn,
Freed from fetters of the flesh, burst into mind immediate:
Madness judgeth wisely, and the visions of the lunatic are gone,
And each hasteneth to praise the mercy that made him irresponsible.
For the soul is one, though manifold in act, working the machinery of brain,
Reason, fancy, conscience, passion, are but varying phases;
If, in God's wise purpose, the machine were shattered or confused,
Still is soul the same, though it exhibit with a difference:
Therefore, dissipate the brain, and set its inmate free,
Behold, the maniacs and embryos stand in their place intelligent.