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.