"Neither for distance nor for straitened cheer, Which will not let Thought run its restless round, Ceased Love, so wont to rein the cavalier, Aye to inflame his heart, aye vex his wound:
At length those beauties, to his eyes so dear, Parforce must he revisit, homeward bound.
Unshorn, afflicted, he, in poor array, Thither returns, from whence he went his way.