Note 691:A — Chapter IV · (continued 2)
Reading edition
This writer transcends mediocrity in consequence of the singular purity and harmony of his diction and versification. The subsequent lines, forming the prior part of a sonnet, have the air of being written rather in the 19th than the 16th century:—
"Hard is his hap who never finds content, But still must dwell with heavy-thoughted sadnesse: Harder that heart that never will relent, That may, and will not turne these woes to gladnesse; Then joies adue, comfort and mirth, farewell; For I must now exile me from all pleasure, Seeking some uncouth cave where I may dwell, Pensive and solitarie without measure."