Those who display much dash and din,
Have seldom any thing within.
A weary traveller, one day,
Cross'd o'er a river in his way;
Alarm'd to see the foaming tide
Dashing o'er rocks from side to side,
Nevertheless, his course to keep,
He ventur'd in with trembling step;
And found the water neither deep,
Nor footing bad; and got well o'er.
When he had travell'd some leagues more,
He to another river came,
That smoothly flowed, a silent stream:
This he thought easily to pass;
But ere he in the middle was,
He plunged into a gulf profound,
And for his feet no bottom found;
But, forced to swim with all his might,
Got to the shore in piteous plight.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]