In solitude, Heart said: "Where find the maid? My bride's a fugitive, From sight doth live, And hearts are hunters of the game, Pursuers of the same Through every passing form, The Beauty that all eyes do seek, All eyes do but deform; The love our faithless lips would speak Dies on the listless air, Nature befriends us not, Nor hearthside doth prepare In all her ample plot; Life's but illusion, Cunning confusion; Flings shadows pale about our path, She shadow is, and nothing hath; Eyes are divorced from seeing, Hearts cloven clean from being; My bride I cannot find, My love I cannot bind; The thousand fair ones of our sphere, Fond, false ones all, nor mine, nor dear; The Paradise I would surprise, From all my following flies, And I'm a thousand infidelities; There's none for me In all I see; Surely the Fair One bides not here, Where dwells she, where, in any sphere?" "In any sphere?" Love whispered: "Where, where, if not here? Here in thy breast the maiden find, Ideas sole imparadise the mind; Here heart's hymeneals begin, Here's ours and only ours housed here within: Through parting gates of human kind Enter thou blest the Unseen Mind." II.--WOMAN. "Virtue sure Were blind as fortune, should she choose the poor Rough cottage man to live in, and despise To dwell in woman's stately edifice; Woman's approved the fairer sex, and we Mean men repent our pedigree. Why choose the father's name, when we may take The mother's a more honor'd blood to make, Woman's of later, though of nobler birth, For she of man was made, man made of earth, The son of dust, and though her sin did breed His fall, again she raised him in her seed; Who had he not her blest creation seen, An Anchorite in Paradise had been."