XXXVI.

Away! nor let me loiter in my song, For we have many a mountain-path to tread, And many a varied shore to sail along, By pensive Sadness, not by Fiction, led-- Climes, fair withal as ever mortal head[et] Imagined in its little schemes of thought;[eu] Or e'er in new Utopias were ared,[136] To teach Man what he might be, or he ought-- If that corrupted thing could ever such be taught.