LXXIII.

And thus I am absorbed, and this is life:—

I look upon the peopled desert past,

As on a place of agony and strife,

Where, for some sin, to Sorrow I was cast,

To act and suffer, but remount at last[jj]

With a fresh pinion; which I feel to spring,

Though young, yet waxing vigorous as the Blast

Which it would cope with, on delighted wing,

Spurning the clay-cold bonds which round our being cling.[jk] [321]

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