And rolled the round world to his manhood’s ken.
LXXXVI
Yet old before his time he sits, out-worn
With words and wars, upon the seat of scorn;
Weary of life’s vain round, love’s fruitless chase,
False fortune’s whirling wheel, fame’s empty horn.
LXXXVII
For here, in living shape and semblance, shone
The passions and the powers man’s soul hath won
Through all his ages, like the starry signs