affirm; but it may be said that at least he
preserved the source of action unpolluted, that his principles were
never shaken, that his distinctions of right and wrong were never
confounded, and that his faults had nothing of malignity or design, but
proceeded from some unexpected pressure, or casual temptation.

"The latter part of his life cannot be remembered but with pity and
sadness. He languished some years under that depression of mind which
enchains the faculties without destroying them, and leaves reason the
knowledge of right without the power of pursuing it. These clouds which
he perceived gathering on his intellect he endeavoured to disperse by
travel, and passed into France; but found himself constrained to yield
to his malady, and returned. He was for some time confined in a house
of lunatics, and afterwards retired to the care of his sister in
Chichester, where death, in 1756, came to his relief.

"After his return from France, the writer of this character paid him
a visit at Islington, where he was waiting for his sister, whom he had
directed to meet him. There was then nothing of disorder discernible
in his mind by any but himself; but he had withdrawn from study, and
travelled with no other book than an English Testament, such as children
carry to the school. When his friend took it into his hand, out of
curiosity to see what companion a man of letters had chosen, 'I have but
one book,' said Collins, 'but that is the best.'"

Such was the fate of Collins, with whom I once delighted to converse,
and whom I yet remember with tenderness.

He was visited at Chichester, in his last illness, by his learned
friends Dr. Warton and his brother, to whom he spoke with disapprobation
of his "Oriental Eclogues," as not sufficiently expressive of Asiatic
manners, and called them his "Irish Eclogues." He showed them, at the
same time, an ode inscribed to Mr. John Home, on the superstitions of
the Highlands, which they thought superior to his other works, but which
no search has yet found. His disorder was no alienation of mind, but
general laxity and feebleness--a deficiency rather of his vital than his
intellectual powers. What he spoke wanted neither judgment nor spirit;
but a few minutes exhausted him, so that he was forced to rest upon the
couch, till a short cessation restored his powers, and he was again able
to talk with his former vigour. The approaches of this dreadful malady
he began to feel soon after hi