What had been a pride, Was now a shame; my likings and my loves Ran in new channels, leaving old ones dry; 185 And hence a blow that, in maturer age, Would but have touched the judgment, struck more deep Into sensations near the heart: meantime, As from the first, wild theories were afloat, To whose pretensions, sedulously urged, 190 I had but lent a careless ear, assured That time was ready to set all things right, And that the multitude, so long oppressed, Would be oppressed no more.
But when events Brought less encouragement, and unto these 195 The immediate proof of principles no more Could be entrusted, while the events themselves, Worn out in greatness, stripped of novelty, Less occupied the mind, and sentiments Could through my understanding's natural growth 200 No longer keep their ground, by faith maintained Of inward consciousness, and hope that laid Her hand upon her object--evidence Safer, of universal application, such As could not be impeached, was sought elsewhere.

205 But now, become oppressors in their turn, Frenchmen had changed a war of self-defence For one of conquest, [F] losing sight of all Which they had struggled for: now mounted up, Openly in the eye of earth and heaven, 210 The scale of liberty.

I read her doom, With anger vexed, with disappointment sore, But not dismayed, nor taking to the shame Of a false prophet.

While resentment rose Striving to hide, what nought could heal, the wounds 215 Of mortified presumption, I adhered More firmly to old tenets, and, to prove Their temper, strained them more; and thus, in heat Of contest, did opinions every day Grow into consequence, till round my mind 220 They clung, as if they were its life, nay more, The very being of the immortal soul.
This was the time, when, all things tending fast To depravation, speculative schemes-- That promised to abstract the hopes of Man 225 Out of his feelings, to be fixed thenceforth For ever in a purer element-- Found ready welcome.

Tempting region _that_ For Zeal to enter and refresh herself, Where passions had the privilege to work, 230 And never hear the sound of their own names.
But, speaking more in charity, the dream Flattered the young, pleased with extremes, nor least With that which makes our Reason's naked self The object of its fervour.