But getting nigh grim Dante's "obscure wood,"[539]
That horrid equinox, that hateful section
Of human years—that half-way house—that rude
Hut, whence wise travellers drive with circumspection[JZ]
Life's sad post-horses o'er the dreary frontier
Of Age, and looking back to Youth, give one tear;—
XXVIII.
I won't describe,—that is, if I can help
Description; and I won't reflect,—that is,
If I can stave off thought, which—as a whelp