Man's aspirations oft are drown'd in eyes—
Twin wells, their depth as fathomless as full;
Whiles ofttime Honour, lured by woman's sighs—
Bound, fettered fast beneath a woman's rule—
Has from Life's ploughshare turned himself aback,
Mock'd, helpless, down along the limed track,
To breathe his soul out in soft vestibule,
Afar from tented field and council-board.
Folly and sin entail their own reward:
Our noblest aims are wrecked by fingers fair,