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.