I.
Near Wilto, huge heaps of stones are found, But so fused, that her any eye t them just, nor Reason reason try, What force brought them to so unlikely ground.
Ter weights my minds waste soil is bound, Of passion-hills, reag to Reasons sky, From Fancys earth, passing all numbers bound, Passing all guess, wheo me should fly So mazed a mass; or, if i grows, A simple soul should breed so mixed woes.
II.
The Bruertons have a lake, which, when the sun Approag warms, not else, dead logs up sends From hideous depth; which tribute, when it ends, Sore sign it is the lords last thread is spun.
My lake is Sense, whose still streams never run But when my sun her shining twins there bends; Then from his depth with for her begun, Long drowned hopes to watery eyes it lends; But when that fails my dead hopes up to take, Their master is fair warned his will to make.
III.
We have a fish, by strangers much admired, Which caught, to cruel search yields his chief part: Wi……（内容加载失败！）
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