VII.

Yet must I think less wildly:--I _have_ thought Too long and darkly, till my brain became, In its own eddy boiling and o'erwrought, A whirling gulf of phantasy and flame:[gm] And thus, untaught in youth my heart to tame, My springs of life were poisoned.[282] 'Tis too late: Yet am I changed; though still enough the same In strength to bear what Time can not abate,[gn] And feed on bitter fruits without accusing Fate.