XXVII.
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o deemed the Childe, as o'er the mountains heDid 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 despiseHis early youth, misspent in maddest whim;But as he gazed on truth his aching eyes grew dim.[52]
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