Towards the mighty Sea. 100

In such a vessel ne'er before
Did human Creature leave the shore:
If this or that way he should stir,
Woe to the poor blind Mariner!
For death will be his doom.

Strong is the current; but be mild,
Ye waves, and spare the helpless Child!
If ye in anger fret or chafe,
A Bee-hive would be ship as safe
As that in which he sails. 110

But say, what was it? Thought of fear!
Well may ye tremble when ye hear!
--A Household Tub, like one of those
Which women use to wash their clothes,
This carried the blind Boy.

Close to the water he had found
This Vessel, push'd it from dry ground,
Went into it; and, without dread,
Following the fancies in his head,
He paddled up and down. 120

A while he stood upon his feet;
He felt the motion--took his seat;
And dallied thus, till from the shore
The tide retreating more and more