Thy proud flesh to pamper, dost wrong to thy whole.
I, too, am in flames. Who, then, seeks burning brand,
The trash to consume of conceit from the land?
That which is once burnt cannot blaze out again.
Select flaming brand, living fire choose, amain.
Alas! Lackaday! What has thus come to me?
My full moon in clouds why thus hidden to be?180
I scarcely can breathe; with deep sorrow heart burns;
Male-lion-like, grief all kind condolence spurns.
He who in his senses has thus become drunk,