The restless mind. For ever on pursuit 85
Of knowledge bent it starves the grosser powers.
Quite unemploy’d, against its own repose
Its turns its fatal edge, and sharper pangs
Than what the body knows embitter life.
Chiefly where Solitude, sad nurse of care, 90
To sickly musing gives the pensive mind.
There madness enters; and the dim-ey’d Fiend,
Sour Melancholy, night and day provokes
Her own eternal wound. The sun grows pale;