I said to myself, We must die. Sooner
or later, we must disappear forever from the face of the earth.
Whatever be the links that hold us to life, they must be broken.
This scene of existence is, in all its parts, calamitous. The
greater number is oppressed with immediate evils, and those the
tide of whose fortunes is full, how small is their portion of
enjoyment, since they know that it will terminate!
For some time I indulged myself, without reluctance, in these
gloomy thoughts; but at length the delection which they produced
became insupportably painful. I endeavored to dissipate it with
music. I had all my grandfather's melody as well as poetry by
rote. I now lighted by chance on a ballad which commemorated the
fate of a German cavalier who fell at the siege of Nice under
Godfrey of Bouillon. My choice was unfortunate; for the scenes of
violence and carnage which were here wildly but forcibly portrayed
only suggested to my thoughts a new topic in the horrors of war.
I sought refuge, but ineffectually, in sleep. My mind was thronged
by vivid but confused images, and no effort that I made was
sufficient to drive them away.
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