XXVII.

So deemed the Childe, as o'er the mountains he Did take his way in solitary guise: Sweet was the scene, yet soon he thought to flee, More restless than the swallow in the skies:[bk] Though here awhile he learned to moralise, For Meditation fixed at times on him; And conscious Reason whispered to despise His early youth, misspent in maddest whim; But as he gazed on truth his aching eyes grew dim.[52]