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30 “And I was then not what I seem, “But headlong as a wintry stream, “And wore my feelings out before “I well could count their causes o’er: “And what with fury, fear, and wrath, “The tortures which beset my path, “Cold, hunger, sorrow, shame, distress, “Thus bound in nature’s nakedness; “Sprung from a race whose rising blood “When stirr’d beyond its calmer mood, “And trodden hard upon, is like “The rattle-snake’s, in act to strike, “What marvel if this worn-out trunk “Beneath its woes a moment sunk? “The earth gave way, the skies roll’d round, “I seem’d to sink upon the ground; “But err’d, for I was fastly bound. “My heart turn’d sick, my brain grew sore, “And throbb’d awhile, then beat no more: “The skies spun like a mighty wheel; “I saw the trees like drunkards reel,