APPROACH TO ENGLAND. 23
Of witching sweetness, yet thy raoods are strange, And thy caprices terrible.
Of these
I was forewarned, however, and complain Less of thy frowns, than thine indulgences. Thine everlasting rocking makes the soul
h and sick, like an o er cradled child ; And thy protracted calmness lulls the mind To dreamy idleness, stealing away That industry in which is half our bliss. Things from their nature and their proper use Thou seem st to turn. The book we fain would read Leaps from our hand, or cheats the swimming sight. The needle pricks our fingers, and the pen Makes zigzag lines. If still we persevere Against thy will, grasping with desperate zeal Both pen and table, as the Jews of old With one hand wrought upon their wall, and held Their weapons with the other, down amain By some unlucky lurch the inkstand comes, Deluging things most precious. Last resort Is conversation, and with quickened zeal We turn to that, reduced again to say The hundredth time, what we had said before. Yet, if perchance some witticism, or tale, Well hoarded up, we bring exulting forth, No smile repays our toil, the listener yawns, For thou dost dim perception, and enwrap Attention in a trance, and memory drive To the four winds.
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