Io Mi Rivolgo Indietro A Ciascun Passo. On Quitting Laura. With Weary Frame Which Painfully I Bear, I Look Behind Me At Each Onward Pace, And Then Take Comfort From Your Native Air, Which Following Fans My Melancholy Face; The Far Way, My Frail Life, The Cherish'D Fair Whom Thus I Leave, As Then My Thoughts Retrace, I Fix My Feet In Silent Pale Despair, And On The Earth My Tearful Eyes Abase. At Times A Doubt, Too, Rises On My Woes, "How Ever Can This Weak And Wasted Frame Live From Life'S Spirit And One Source Afar?" Love'S Answer Soon The Truth Forgotten Shows-- "This High Pure Privilege True Lovers Claim, Who From Mere Human Feelings Franchised Are!" Macgregor. I Look Behind Each Step I Onward Trace, Scarce Able To Support My Wearied Frame, Ah, Wretched Me! I Pantingly Exclaim, And From Her Atmosphere New Strength Embrace; I Think On Her I Leave--My Heart'S Best Grace-- My Lengthen'D Journey--Life'S Capricious Flame-- I Pause In Withering Fear, With Purpose Tame, Whilst Down My Cheek Tears Quick Each Other Chase. My Doubting Heart Thus Questions In My Grief: "Whence Comes It That Existence Thou Canst Know When From Thy Spirit Thou Dost Dwell Entire?" Love, Holy Love, My Heart Then Answers Brief: "Such Privilege I Do On All Bestow Who Feed My Flame With Nought Of Earthly Fire!" Wollaston.