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.