The mind or heart may be like rock: "So numerous herds are driven o'er the rock, / No print is left of all the passing flock; / So sings the wind around the solid stone, / So vainly beat the waves with fruitless moan"
Epistle [To Lord Bathurst]
Lonsdale, R. Ed. <u>Eighteenth Century Women Poets</u>. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989.