[59] 1832.
For those ... 1822.
XXI[60]
SECLUSION
Lance, shield, and sword relinquished—at his side
A bead-roll, in his hand a claspèd book,
Or staff more harmless than a shepherd's crook,
The war-worn Chieftain quits the world—to hide
His thin autumnal locks where Monks abide 5
In cloistered privacy. But not to dwell
In soft repose he comes. Within his cell,
Round the decaying trunk of human pride,
At morn, and eve, and midnight's silent hour,
Do penitential cogitations cling; 10
Like ivy, round some ancient elm, they twine
In grisly folds and strictures serpentine;[61]
Yet, while they strangle, a fair growth they bring,[62]
For recompense—their own perennial bower.
FOOTNOTES:
[60] This, and the two following sonnets, were published in Time's Telescope, July 2, 1823.—Ed.
[61] The "ancient elm," with ivy twisting round it "in grisly folds and strictures serpentine," which suggested these lines, grew in Rydal Park, near the path to the upper waterfall.—Ed.
[62] 1837.