And all else they mistake for finer sense
O' the fact that reason warrants,—as before.
They hope perhaps, fear not impossibly,
At least some one Pompilia left the world
Will say "I know the right place by foot's feel,
I took it and tread firm there; wherefore change?"
But what a multitude will surely fall
Quite through the crumbling truth, late subjacent,
Sink to the next discoverable base,
Rest upon human nature, settle there