oh! i plainly see my miserable office,—to obey, rebelling; and worse yet, to hate with touch of pity! for in his eyes i read some lurid woe would shrivel me up, had i it. yet is there hope. time and tide flow wide. the hated whale has the round watery world to swim in, as the small gold-fish has its glassy globe. his heaven-insulting purpose, god may wedge aside. i would up heart, were it not like lead. but my whole clock’s run down; my heart the all-controlling weight, i have no key to lift again.