"When younger," said he, "I [felt as if I were]
<believed myself> destined for some great
enterprise. My feelings are profound; but I possessed a coolness
of judgment that fitted me for illustrious achievements. This
sentiment of the worth of my nature supported me, when others
would have been oppressed; for I deemed it criminal to throw
away in useless grief those talents that might be useful to my
fellow-creatures. When I reflected on the work I had completed,
no less a one than the creation of a sensitive and rational
animal, I could not rank myself with the herd of common
projectors. But this [feeling] <thought>,
which supported me in the commencement of my career, now serves
only to plunge me lower in the dust. All my speculations and
hopes are as nothing; and, like the archangel who aspired to
omnipotence, I am chained in an eternal hell. My imagination was
vivid, yet my powers of analysis and application were intense;
by the union of these qualities I conceived the idea, and
executed the creation of a man. Even now I cannot recollect,
without passion, my reveries while the work was incomplete. I
trod heaven in my thoughts, now exulting in my powers, now
burning with the idea of their effects. From my infancy I was
imbued with high hopes and a lofty ambition; but how am I sunk!
Oh! my friend, if you had known me as I once was, you would not
[recognize] <recognise> me in this state
of degradation. Despondency rarely visited my heart; a high
destiny seemed to bear me on, until I fell, never, never again
to rise."
Must I then lose this admirable being? I have longed for a
friend; I have sought one who would [sympathize]
<sympathise> with and love me. Behold, on these
desert seas I have found such a one; but, I fear, I have gained
him only to know his value, and lose him. I would reconcile him
to life, but he repulses the idea.