I, in my overhaste, pursued too far,
Seeking that vague and fabled Paradise
Where Adam and his many sons sing chaunts,
While Eve walks through them pale and deified.
I missed my track in pathless swamps of Time,
I chilled my hands against the cold-dead stars,
And lost my mind in unremembered Past,
Remote from God and out of human sight.
Lastly I took to painting down my thoughts,
And pictured for the King of Portugal