I have not loved the world

(Childe Harold, Canto iii. Stanzas 113, 114.) 

I have not loved the world, nor the world me; 
I hare not flatter'd its rank breath, nor bow'd 
To its idolatries a patient knee, — 
Nor coin'd my cheek to smiles, — nor cried aloud 
In worship of an echo; in the crowd 
They could not deem me one of such; I stood 
Among them, but not of them; in a shroud 
Of thoughts which were not their thoughts, and still could, 
Had I not filed my mind, which thus itself subdued. 

I have not loved the world, nor the world me, — 
But let us part fair foes; I do believe, 
Though I have found them not, that there may be 
Words which are things, — hopes which will not deceive, 
And virtues which are merciful, nor weave 
Snares for the failing: I would also deem 
O'er others' griefs that some sincerely grieve; 
That two, or one, are almost what they seem, — 
That goodness is no name, and happiness no dream.