Prince Athanase. a Fragment

PART 1. There was a youth, who, as with toil and travel, Had grown quite weak and gray before his time; Nor any could the restless griefs unravel Which burned within him, withering up his prime And goading him, like fiends, from land to land. Not his the load of any secret crime, For nought of ill his heart could understand, But pity and wild sorrow for the same;-- Not his the thirst for glory or command, Baffled with blast of hope-consuming shame; Nor evil joys which fire the vulgar breast, And quench in speedy smoke its feeble flame, Had left within his soul their dark unrest: Nor what religion fables of the grave Feared he,--Philosophy's accepted guest.…