No More Learning

THOUGH, outworn with sorrow, with hours of torturous
anguish,
Ortalus, I no more tarry the Muses among ;
Though from           fair blooms of poesy budding
Rise not at all ; such grief rocks me, uneasily stirr"d :
Coldly but even now mine own dear brother in ebbing 5
Lethe his ice-wan feet laveth, a shadowy ghost.