She shapes the moral traveller 
A sphere where she is in command, 
And on a lower level her 
Rotund endowments make him stand 
In circumspective paradise 
As with an apodeictive hand 
She leads him to the precipice; 
The way her lines of force are bent 
Provokes the root of his surprise, 
“I did not know what danger meant 
Till I was safe. Will you, again,
Roll ’round the mills of my content?”