The mind that worships what recalls the sun,
From whence she sprang, can be divided never.
(Transl. by J.A. Symonds.)
In the same way he realised the futility of earthly love compared to metaphysical love:
The one love soars, the other downward tends,
The soul lights this while that the senses stir.
And:
The highest beauty only I desire.
It is extraordinary, however, that even this ecstatic adorer vaguely suspected that he himself might be the creator of the beauty which he saw in his mistress. In a sonnet he asks Cupid whether her beauty really exists, or whether it is a delusion of his senses, and he receives the reply:
The beauty thou discernest all is hers;