Discovers, if heart and brain be proof,
No necessary ending.
Foot up, foot down, to the turn abrupt
Having trod, he, there arriving,
Finds—what he took for a point was breadth,
A mercy of Nature's contriving.
So, he rounds what, when 't is reached, proves straight,
From one side gains the other:
The wee path widens—resume the march,
And he foils you, Ben my brother!