IV.

Since my young days of passion--joy, or pain-- Perchance my heart and harp have lost a string-- And both may jar: it may be, that in vain I would essay as I have sung to sing[gj]: Yet, though a dreary strain, to this I cling; So that it wean me from the weary dream Of selfish grief or gladness--so it fling Forgetfulness around me--it shall seem To me, though to none else, a not ungrateful theme.