“Nay, nay,” she answer’d, “nay—would crown them both;
Your music with your muse; your head, the home;
The mistress there, your heart.”
“With all one’s heart
But mistress of his head alone, would love
Gain much?” he ask’d.
“Immortal fame,” said she;
“Not so?”
“And do you think,” he sigh’d, “that this
Could set the heart at ease?—or think you none,