Xxxiii

Raising my hopes on hills of high desire, Thinking to scale the heaven of her heart, My slender means presumed too high a part, Her thunder of disdain forced me retire, And threw me down to pain in all this fire, Where lo, I languish in so heavy smart Because th'attempt was far above my art; Her pride brooked not poor souls should come so nigh her. Yet, I protest, my high desiring will Was not to dispossess her of her right; Her sovereignty should have remained still; I only sought the bliss to have her sight. Her sight, contented thus to see me spill, Framed my desires fit for her eyes to kill.