Note 295 — 1817
Reading edition
1820.
Yet how—for I—if there be truth In the world's voice was passing fair, And beauty might have led my youth To sorrow, such as can impair The loveliest cheek before its time, And blanch in any state or clime The most resplendent hair. Man's foolish envy is a stream Where wisdom's eye reflected sees The fuel of a painful dream, The incitements of a dire disease. {A pageantry} {Ah what } is life but Powers let loose ms. And revelling in their own abuse.