Chapter 16 No.16

A thousand ships have foundered here before

So lost, no chip of them came back to shore.

I, too, on those waves wandered many a night,

Till terror plucked my sleeve, and cried "No More!

Back to the land! God's wide horizon rings

Thee and the worlds. Thinkst thou the King of kings

To compare by conjecture? Ah! poor wight,

Wisdom