LXXII.

I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me; and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum[320] Of human cities torture: I can see[jg] Nothing to loathe in Nature, save to be[jh] A link reluctant in a fleshly chain, Classed among creatures, when the soul can flee, And with the sky--the peak--the heaving plain[ji] Of Ocean, or the stars, mingle--and not in vain.