Of something which your poets cannot paint,
And (if it were not wisdom to love virtue),
For which Philosophy might barter Wisdom;
And giving so much happiness, deserves
A little in return. I would not have her
Break her heart with a man who has none to break!
Or wither on her stalk like some pale rose380
Deserted by the bird she thought a nightingale,
According to the Orient tale.[199] She is——
Ulr. The daughter of dead Stralenheim, your foe: