Oh! let me not repine!  A quiet mind,
  Conscious and upright, needs no other stay;
  Nor can I grieve for what I leave behind,
  In the rich promise of eternal day. 
  Henceforth to me the world is dead and gone,
  Its thorns unfelt, its roses cast away: 
  And the old pilgrim, weary and alone,
  Bowed down with travel, at his Master’s gate
  Now sits, his task of life-long labour done,
  Thankful for rest, although it comes so late,
  After sore journey through this world of sin,
  In hope, and prayer, and wistfulness to wait,
  Until the door shall ope, and let him in.

HERMOTIMUS

Hermotimus, the hero of this ballad, was a philosopher, or rather a prophet, of Clazomenae, who possessed the faculty, now claimed by the animal-magnetists, of effecting a voluntary separation between his soul and body; for the former could wander to any part of the universe, and even hold intercourse with supernatural beings, whilst the senseless frame remained at home.  Hermotimus, however, was not insensible to the risk attendant upon this disunion; since, before attempting any of these aerial flights, he took the precaution to warn his wife, lest, ere the return of his soul, the body should be rendered an unfit or useless receptacle.  This accident, which he so much dreaded, at length occurred; for the lady, wearied out by a succession of trances, each of longer duration than the preceding, one day committed his body to the flames, and thus effectually put a stop to such unconnubial conduct.  He received divine honours at Clazomenae, but must nevertheless remain as a terrible example and warning to all husbands who carry their scientific or spiritual pursuits so far as to neglect their duty to their wives.

It is somewhat curious that Hermotimus is not the only person (putting the disciples of Mesmer and Dupotet altogether out of the question) who has possessed this miraculous power.  Another and much later instance is recorded by Dr. George Cheyne, in his work entitled, The English Malady, or a Treatise of Nervous Diseases, as having come under his own observation; and, as this case is exactly similar to that of the Prophet, it may amuse the reader to see how far an ancient fable may be illustrated, and in part explained, by the records of modern science.  Dr. Cheyne’s patient was probably cataleptic; but the worthy physician must be allowed to tell his own story.

“Colonel Townshend, a gentleman of honour and integrity, had for many years been afflicted with a nephritic complaint.  His illness increasing, and his strength decaying, he came from Bristol to Bath in a litter, in autumn, and lay at the Bell Inn.  Dr. Baynard and I were called to him, and attended him twice a-day; but his vomitings continuing still incessant and obstinate against all remedies, we despaired of his recovery.  While he was in this condition, he sent for us one morning; we waited on him with