Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/196

174 By personal ambition unenslaved,

Frugal as there was need, and, though self-willed,

From dangerous passions free. Three years had flown

Since I had felt in heart and soul the shock

Of the huge town's first presence, and had paced

Her endless streets, a transient visitant:

Now, fixed amid that concourse of mankind

Where Pleasure whirls about incessantly,

And life and labour seem but one, I filled

An idler's place; an idler well content

To have a house (what matter for a home?)

That owned him; living cheerfully abroad

With unchecked fancy ever on the stir,

And all my young affections out of doors.

There was a time when whatsoe'er is feigned

Of airy palaces, and gardens built

By Genii of romance; or hath in grave

Authentic history been set forth of Rome,

Alcairo, Babylon, or Persepolis;

Or given upon report by pilgrim friars,

Of golden cities ten months' journey deep

Among Tartarian wilds—fell short, far short,

Of what my fond simplicity believed

And thought of London—held me by a chain