§ 23. Poetical riddles are but a low species of verse, and yet the best of poets have made them. We find a neat one on a ring, which, in riddle-phrase, has been said to “unite two people together and touch only one.” It runs thus:
“Though small of body, it contains
The extremes of pleasure and of pains;
Has no beginning, nor no end;
More hollow than the falsest friend.
If it entraps some headless zany,
Or, in its magic circle, any
Have entered, from its sorcery
No power on earth can set them free.
At least, all human force is vain,