Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/158

136 Relinquished, and your nights of revelry,

And in my own unlovely cell sate down

In lightsome mood—such privilege has youth

That cannot take long leave of pleasant thoughts.

The bonds of indolent society

Relaxing in their hold, henceforth I lived

More to myself. Two winters may be passed

Without a separate notice: many books

Were skimmed, devoured, or studiously perused,

But with no settled plan. I was detached

Internally from academic cares;

Yet independent study seemed a course

Of hardy disobedience toward friends

And kindred, proud rebellion and unkind.

This spurious virtue, rather let it bear

A name it now deserves, this cowardice,

Gave treacherous sanction to that over-love

Of freedom which encouraged me to turn

From regulations even of my own

As from restraints and bonds. Yet who can tell—

Who knows what thus may have been gained, both then

And at a later season, or preserved;

What love of nature, what original strength

Of contemplation, what intuitive truths,