Normale Version: On Beeing Cautioned Against Walking on an Headland
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On Beeing Cautioned Against Walking on an Headland
Overlooking the Sea, Because It was Frequented by a Lunatic

Is there a solitary wretch who hies
To the tall cliff, with starting pace or slow,
And, measuring, views with wild and hollow eyes
Its distance from the waves that chide below;

Who, as the sea-born gale with frequent sighs
Chills his cold bed upon the mountain turf,
With hoarse, half-uttered lamentation, lies
Murmuring responses to the dashing surf?

In moody sadness, on the giddy brink,
I see him more with envy than with fear;
He has no nice felicities that skrink
From giant horrors; wildly wandering here,

He seems (uncursed with reason) not to know
The depth or the duration of his woe.