Ransack’d the heavens for one more pure and whole
To fill the empty temple of the soul,
Now caught by retribution in the mesh
Of one poor piece of perishable flesh—
What baser demon of the pit would buy
With all your ruin’d aspirations?
Lucifer (within). I!—
Cipr. What! The very winds and waters
Hear, and answer to the cry
She is deaf to!—Better thrown