Now with desire of wealth transported quite
Beyond our free humanity's delight;
Now with ambition climbing falling towers,
Whose hope to scale, our fear to fall devours;
Now rapt with pastimes, pomp, all joys impure:
In things without us no delight is sure.380
But love, with all joys crowned, within doth sit:
O goddess, pity love, and pardon it!"
Thus spake she[67] weeping: but her goddess' ear
Burn'd with too stern a heat, and would not hear.