He set, with face down evermore, lest by a glance, that he
Should pry into the evil store, of his own villainie.
But, fishing in a pool one day, the sage forgot his specs—
To take it from his nose,—and hey! a horror, to perplex
His soul with fear, was under him; for, in the glassy wave,
He saw his heart reflected grim! he saw his new-made grave:
He saw, that he himself was worst, of all that he had seen;
By sight of conscience, he was curst, the evil deeds, had been
Dry rotting in his blackened heart, the place he feared to search,
And self-reproach, did send a dart, that knocked him off his perch;