Raising my hopes on hills of high desire,
Thinking to scale the heaven of her heart,
My slender means presum'd too high a part;
Her thunder of disdain forc'd 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 brook'd not poor souls should come so nigh her.
Yet I protest my high aspiring 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,
Fram'd my desires fit for her eyes to kill.
