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VI. Not much he loved long question of the past, Nor told of wondrous wilds, and deserts vast, In those far lands where he had wandered lone, And--as himself would have it seem--unknown: Yet these in vain his eye could scarcely scan, Nor glean experience from his fellow man; 90 But what he had beheld he shunned to show, As hardly worth a stranger's care to know; If still more prying such inquiry grew, His brow fell darker, and his words more few. VII. Not unrejoiced to see him once again, Warm was his welcome to the haunts of men; Born of high lineage, linked in high command, He mingled with the Magnates of his land; Joined the carousals of the great and gay, And saw them smile or sigh their hours away; 100 But still he only saw, and did not share, The common pleasure or the general care; He did not follow what they all pursued With hope still baffled still to be renewed; Nor shadowy Honour, nor substantial Gain, Nor Beauty's preference, and the rival's pain: Around him some mysterious circle thrown Repelled approach, and showed him still alone; Upon his eye sat something of reproof, That kept at least Frivolity aloof; 110 And things more timid that beheld him near In silence gazed, or whispered mutual fear; And they the wiser, friendlier few confessed They deemed him better than his air expressed. VIII. Twas strange--in youth all action and all life, Burning for pleasure, not averse from strife; Woman--the Field--the Ocean, all that gave Promise of gladness, peril of a grave, In turn he tried--he ransacked all below, And found his recompense in joy or woe, 120 No tame, trite medium; for his feelings sought In that intenseness an escape from thought:[ji] The Tempest of his Heart in scorn had gazed On that the feebler Elements hath raised; The Rapture of his Heart had looked on high, And asked if greater dwelt beyond the sky: Chained to excess, the slave of each extreme, How woke he from the wildness of that dream! Alas! he told not--but he did awake To curse the withered heart that would not break. 130 IX. Books
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