Self-Raised Or, From the Depths

RECOVERY. Something I know. Oft, shall it come about When every heart is full of hope for man, The horizon straight is darkened, and a doubt Clouds all. The work the youth so well began Wastes down, and by some deed of shame is finished. Ah, yet we will not be dismayed: What seemed the triumph of the Fiend at length Might be the effort of some dying devil, Permitted to put forth his fullest streng...