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SONNET XXVII.
<poem> Raising my hope on hills of high desire, Thinking to scale the heaven of her heart; My slender mean presumes too high a part: For DISDAIN'S thunderbolt made me retire,
And threw me down to pain in all this fire.
Where lo, I languish in so heavy smart Because th'attempt was far above my art: Her state brooks not poor souls should come so nigh her.
Yet I protest my high aspiring will
Was not to dispossess her of her right: Her sovereignty should have remained still, I only sought the bliss to have her sight.
Her sight contented thus to see me spill, Framed my desires fit for her eyes to kill.
<poem> FINIS.
[SAMUEL] DANIEL.
