Depressed, bewildered thus, I did not walk
  With scoffers, seeking light and gay revenge
  From indiscriminate laughter, nor sate down
  In reconcilement with an utter waste
  Of intellect; such sloth I could not brook, 325
  (Too well I loved, in that my spring of life,
  Pains-taking thoughts, and truth, their dear reward)
  But turned to abstract science, and there sought
  Work for the reasoning faculty enthroned
  Where the disturbances of space and time—­330
  Whether in matters various, properties
  Inherent, or from human will and power
  Derived—­find no admission. [G] Then it was—­
  Thanks to the bounteous Giver of all good!—­
  That the beloved Sister in whose sight 335
  Those days were passed, [H] now speaking in a voice
  Of sudden admonition—­like a brook [I]
  That did but cross a lonely road, and now
  Is seen, heard, felt, and caught at every turn,
  Companion never lost through many a league—­340
  Maintained for me a saving intercourse
  With my true self; for, though bedimmed and changed
  Much, as it seemed, I was no further changed
  Than as a clouded and a waning moon: 
  She whispered still that brightness would return, 345
  She, in the midst of all, preserved me still
  A Poet, made me seek beneath that name,
  And that alone, my office upon earth;
  And, lastly, as hereafter will be shown,
  If willing audience fail not, Nature’s self, 350
  By all varieties of human love
  Assisted, led me back through opening day
  To those sweet counsels between head and heart
  Whence grew that genuine knowledge, fraught with peace,
  Which, through the later sinkings of this cause, 355
  Hath still upheld me, and upholds me now
  In the catastrophe (for so they dream,
  And nothing less), when, finally to close
  And seal up all the gains of France, a Pope
  Is summoned in, to crown an Emperor—­[K] 360
  This last opprobrium, when we see a people,
  That once looked up in faith, as if to Heaven
  For manna, take a lesson from the dog
  Returning to his vomit; when the sun
  That rose in splendour, was alive, and moved 365
  In exultation with a living pomp
  Of clouds—­his glory’s natural retinue—­
  Hath dropped all functions by the gods bestowed,
  And, turned into a gewgaw, a machine,
  Sets like an Opera phantom. 
                              Thus, O Friend! 370
  Through times of honour and through times of shame
  Descending, have I faithfully retraced
  The perturbations of a youthful mind
  Under a long-lived storm of great events—­
  A story destined for thy ear, who now, 375
  Among the fallen of nations, dost abide