Reap’d nothing for himself but doubt, doubt, doubt.
Then ’twas that looking with despair and ruth
Over the blasted harvest of my youth,
I saw Justina: saw, and put aside
The barren Pallas for a mortal bride
Divinelier fair than she is feign’d to be:
But in whose deep-entempled chastity,
That look’d down holy cold upon my fire,
Lived eyes that but re-doubled vain desire.
Till this new passion, that more fiercely prey’d