With what delight could I have walked thee round, 115 If I could joy in aught, sweet interchange Of hill, and valley, rivers, woods, and plains, Now land, now sea and shores with forest crowned, Rocks, dens, and caves! But I in none of these Find place or refuge; and the more I see 120 Pleasures about me, so much more I feel Torment within me, as from the hateful siege Of contraries: all good to me becomes Bane, and in Heaven much worse would be my state.
