Clutching at the horn of danger, while he judgeth it the handle of security,
Or casting his anchor so widely, that the granite reef is just within the tether.
Untaught in science, he is but half alive, stupidly taking note of nothing,
Or listening with dull wonder to the crafty saws of an empiric:
Simple in the world, he trusteth unto knaves; and then to make amends for folly,
Dealeth so shrewdly with the honest, they cannot but suspect him for a thief;
With an unknown God, he maketh mock of reason, fathering contrivance on chance,
Or doting with superstitious dread on some crooked image of his fancy:
But ignorant of Self, he is weakness at heart; the key-stone crumbleth into sand,
There is panic in the general's tent, the oak is hollow as hemlock;