’Tis 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.