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.