Near Wilton sweet, huge stones are found,
But so confused, that neither any eye
Can count them just, nor Reason reason try,
What force brought them to so unlikely ground.
To stranger weights my mind's waste soil is bound,
Of passion-hills, reaching to Reason's sky,
From fancy's earth, passing all number's bound,
Passing all guess, whence into me should fly
So mazed a mass; or, if in me it grows,
A simple soul should breed so mixed woes
Philip Sidney (1554-1586)
From his, The Seven Wonders of England.
This puzzle about not being able to count the number of stones in a circle or the number of trees on a barrow without coming up with the same number twice (or if you do come with the same number the devil or something unpleasant is going to appear) is a reoccurring theme. Wonder what's going on with that and why...?
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