On the wild waves when all beside is dark.

This is the work of Nature, and the eye

In vain the boundless prospect would descry:

What mocks our view cannot contracted be;

We cannot lessen what we cannot see.

Would I could now a single Friend behold,

Who would the yet mysterious facts unfold,

That Time yet spares, and to a stranger show

Th’ events he wishes, and yet fears to know! 100

Much by myself I might in listening glean,