I loved this life, and held a heart not dead
To music, beauty, sweet and warm delights,
An interest in the season-robing earth,
An entertained eye for fortune's chance,
And too pretentiously I sighed to leave
The unfollowed steps of fair and flying Truth,
And last, poor woman, shrank to change thine arms
For the cold circlet of Elysian clouds;
But you, pervert and monstrous, work my peace,
Unto my eyes deforming all the world