Then the hill whereon I stood split asunder, and a crater yawned at my feet,
Black and deep and dreadful, fenced round with ragged rocks;
Dimly was the darkness lit up by spires of distant flame:
And I saw below a moving mass of life, like reptiles bred in corruption,
Where all was terrible unrest, shrieks and groans and thunder.
So I woke, and I thought upon my dream; for it seemed of Wisdom's ministration.
What man is he that findeth Rest, though he hunt for it year after year?
As a child he had not yet been wearied, and cared not then to court it;
As a youth he loved not to be quiet, for excitement spurred him into strife;