Thy indistinct expressions seem
  Like language utter’d in a dream: 
  Yet me they charm, whate’er the theme,
    My Mary!

  Thy silver locks, once auburn bright,
  Are still more lovely in my sight
  Than golden, beams of orient light,
    My Mary!

  For could I view nor them nor thee,
  What sight worth seeing could I see P
  The sun would rise in vain for me,
    My Mary!

  Partakers of thy sad decline,
  Thy hands their little force resign;
  Yet gently press’d, press gently mine,
    My Mary!

  Such feebleness of limbs thou provest,
  That now at every step thou movest,
  Upheld by two; yet still thou lovest,
    My Mary!

  And still to love, though press’d with ill,
  In wintry age to feel no chill,
  With me is to be lovely still,
    My Mary!

  But ah! by constant heed I know,
  How oft the sadness that I show
  Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe,
    My Mary!

  And should my future lot be cast
  With much resemblance of the past,
  Thy worn-out heart will break at last,
    My Mary!

Even love, at least the power of manifesting love, began to betray its mortality.  She who had been so devoted, became, as her mind failed, exacting, and instead of supporting her partner, drew him down.  He sank again into the depth of hypochondria.  As usual, his malady took the form of religious horrors, and he fancied that he was ordained to undergo severe penance for his sins.  Six days he sat motionless and silent, almost refusing to take food.  His physician suggested, as the only chance of arousing him, that Mrs. Unwin should be induced, if possible, to invite him to go out with her; with difficulty she was made to understand what they wanted her to do; at last she said that it was a fine morning, and she should like a walk.  Her partner at once rose and placed her arm in his.  Almost unconsciously, she had rescued him from the evil spirit for the last time.  The pair were in doleful plight.  When their minds failed they had fallen in a miserable manner under the influence of a man named Teedon, a schoolmaster crazed with self-conceit, at whom Cowper in his saner mood had laughed, but whom he now treated as a spiritual oracle, and a sort of medium of communication with the spirit-world, writing down the nonsense which the charlatan talked.  Mrs. Unwin, being no longer in a condition to control the expenditure, the housekeeping, of course, went wrong; and at the same time her partner lost the protection of the love-inspired tact by which she had always contrived to shield his weakness and to secure for him, in spite of his eccentricities, respectful treatment from his neighbours.  Lady Hesketh’s health had failed, and she had been obliged to go to Bath.  Hayley now proved himself no mere lion-hunter, but a true friend.  In conjunction with Cowper’s relatives, he managed the removal