His had been quaffed too quickly, and he found The dregs were wormwood; but he filled again, And from a purer fount, on holier ground, And deemed its spring perpetual--but in vain! Still round him clung invisibly a chain Which galled for ever, fettering though unseen, And heavy though it clanked not; worn with pain, Which pined although it spoke not, and grew keen, Entering with every step he took through many a scene. X. Secure in guarded coldness, he had mixed[gp] Again in fancied safety with his kind, And deemed his spirit now so firmly fixed And sheathed with an invulnerable mind, That, if no joy, no sorrow lurked behind; And he, as one, might 'midst the many stand Unheeded, searching through the crowd to find Fit speculation--such as in strange land He found in wonder-works of God and Nature's hand.[gq] XI. But who can view the ripened rose, nor seek[gr] To wear it? who can curiously behold The smoothness and the sheen of Beauty's cheek, Nor feel the heart can never all grow old?[gs] Who can contemplate Fame through clouds unfold The star[284] which rises o'er her steep, nor climb? Harold, once more within the vortex, rolled On with the giddy circle, chasing Time, Yet with a nobler aim than in his Youth's fond prime.[gt][285] XII. But soon he knew himself the most unfit[gu] Of men to herd with Man, with whom he held Little in common; untaught to submit His thoughts to others, though his soul was quelled In youth by his own thoughts; still uncompelled, He would not yield dominion of his mind To Spirits against whom his own rebelled, Proud though in desolation--which could find A life within itself, to breathe without mankind. XIII. Where rose the mountains, there to him were friends;[gv] Where rolled the ocean, thereon was his home; Where a blue sky, and glowing clime, extends, He had the passion and the power to roam; The desert, forest, cavern, breaker's foam, Were unto him companionship; they spake A mutual language, clearer than the tome Of his land's tongue, which he would oft forsake For Nature's pages glassed by sunbeams on the lake. XIV. Like the Chaldean, he could watch the stars,[gw] Till he had peopled them with beings bright As their own beams; and earth, and earth-born jars, And human frailties, were forgotten quite: Could he have kept his spirit to that flight He had been happy; but this clay will sink Its spark immortal, envying it the light To which it mounts, as if to break the link That keeps us from yon heaven which woos us to its brink.[gx]