To heaven; a hill, to skip pretends.25
In trance of love, Mount Sinai shakes,
At God’s descent; ‘and Moses quakes.’[57]
Found I the friend on whom I dote,
I’d emulate flute’s dulcet note.
But from my love, while torn away,
Unmeaning words alone I say.
The spring is o’er; the rose is gone;
The song of Philomel is done.
His love was all; himself, a note.