Yet must I think less wildly:—I have thought

Too long and darkly, till my brain became,

In its own eddy boiling and o'erwrought,

A whirling gulf of phantasy and flame:[gm]

And thus, untaught in youth my heart to tame,

My springs of life were poisoned.[282] 'Tis too late:

Yet am I changed; though still enough the same

In strength to bear what Time can not abate,[gn]

And feed on bitter fruits without accusing Fate.