'T is round him—near him—here—there—everywhere—

And there's a courage which grows out of fear,

Perhaps of all most desperate, which will dare

The worst to know it:—when the mountains rear

Their peaks beneath your human foot, and there

You look down o'er the precipice, and drear

The gulf of rock yawns,—you can't gaze a minute,

Without an awful wish to plunge within it.