10
VI.
Press not too far thy hardy search, nor trustThe doubtful chambers of that untried maze:Know'st thou what base its leaning wall upstays?What floods lie hid behind? what treacherous crustRoofs the blind chasm, that cracks beneath thy tread?What blights may blast thee, what sub-aqueous soundMay mock thy echoing steps, thy sense astound?Or tempt thee where some rash adventurer deadLies wasting unentomb'd? mark, what a blastBursts from the chilling entrance! storm and showerBreathe stern forbiddance from the jealous bower:As if the demon of that cataract vast. Sole anarch there, abhorr'd that tongue should tell That mortal sight should pierce the secrets of his cell.
