To Hell's dismal revels.
When he reach'd the pit he a fiend became,
In face and in frame,
And in mind the same
As the very devils.

Heavy's the heart with viewing the bed,
Where sin has the meed it has merited;
What frightful taunts from forked tongue,
On gentle and simple there are flung.
The ghastliness of the damned things to state.
Or the pains to relate
Which will ne'er abate
But increase for ever,
No power have I, nor others I wot:
Words cannot be got;
The shapes and the spot
Can be pictured never.

Heavy's the heart, as none will deny,
At losing one's friend or the maid of one's eye;
At losing one's freedom, one's land or wealth;
At losing one's fame, or alas! one's health;
At losing leisure; at losing ease;
At losing peace
And all things that please
The heaven under.
At losing memory, beauty and grace,
Heart-heaviness
For a little space
Can cause no wonder.

Heavy's the heart of man when first
He awakes from his worldly dream accursed,
Fain would be freed from his awful load
Of sin, and be reconciled with his God;
When he feels for pleasures and luxuries
Disgust arise,
From the agonies
Of the ferment unruly,
Through which he becomes regenerate,
Of Christ the mate,
From his sinful state
Springing blithe and holy.

Heavy's the heart of the best of mankind,
Upon the bed of death reclined;
In mind and body ill at ease,
Betwixt remorse and the disease,
Vext by sharp pangs and dreading more.
O mortal poor!
O dreadful hour!
Horrors surround him!
To the end of the vain world he has won;
And dark and dun
The eternal one
Beholds beyond him.

Heavy's the heart, the pressure below,
Of all the griefs I have mentioned now;
But were they together all met in a mass,
There's one grief still would all surpass;
Hope frees from each woe, while we this side
Of the wall abide--
At every tide
'Tis an outlet cranny.
But there's a grief beyond the bier;
Hope will ne'er
Its victims cheer,
That cheers so many.

Heavy's the heart therewith that's fraught;
How heavy is mine at merely the thought!
Our worldly woes, however hard,
Are trifles when with that compared:
That woe--which is known not here--that woe
The lost ones know,
And undergo
In the nether regions;
How wretched the man who exil'd to Hell,
In Hell must dwell,
And curse and yell
With the Hellish legions!

At nought, th