What mockeries are our most firm resolves;
To will is ours, but not to execute.
We map our future like some unknown coast,
And say, “Here is an harbour, here a rock—
The one we will attain, the other shun:”
And we do neither. Some chance gale springs up
And bears us far o'er some unfathom'd sea,
Our efforts are all vain; at length we yield
To winds and waves that laugh at man's control.