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]