So she, impatient her own faults to see,
Turns from herself, and in strange things delights.
For this, few know themselves! for merchants broke,
View their estate with discontent and pain;
And seas are troubled, when they do revoke
Their flowing waves into themselves again.
And while the face of outward things we find,
Pleasing and fair, agreeable and sweet;
These things transport and carry out the mind,
That with herself, herself can never meet.