Here you will find the Poem Sonnet XIII: Behold What Hap of poet Samuel Daniel
Behold what hap Pygmalion had to frame And carve his proper grief upon a stone; My heavy fortune is much like the same: I work on flint, and that's the cause I moan. For hapless, lo, ev'n with mine own desires, I figur'd on the table of my heart The fairest form, the world's eye admires, And so did perish by my proper art. And still I toil, to change the marble breast Of her, whose sweetest grace I do adore, Yet cannot find her breath unto my rest: Hard is her heart, and woe is me, therefore. O happy he that joy'd his stone and art, Unhappy I to love a stony heart.