Or painfully, for love of truth, he climbeth the ladder of science,
Till pride of intellect heating his heart, warpeth it aside to delusion:
The maiden, to give shadow to her fairness, plaiteth her raven hair,
Heedlessly weaving for her soul the silken net of vanity:
The grey-beard looketh on his gold, till he loveth its yellow smile,
Unconscious of the bright decoy which is luring his heart unto avarice:
Wrath avoideth no quarrel, jealousy counteth its suspicions,
Pining envy gazeth still, and melancholy seeketh solitude,
The sensitive broodeth on his slights, the fearful poreth over horrors,
The train of wantonness is fired, the nerves of indecision are unstrung;