" Naught in excess," the wise man said;
But I with pride was flown;
" My charms," said I, " have won the maid,
Her heart is all my own."

But she, it seems, was full of guile,
The girl I thought my slave;
No more she wears that humble smile,
Her looks are stern and grave.

And I have had a cruel fall,
Who but now soared so high;
The braggart knight is held in thrall,
His arms defeated lie.

Upon my knees I kiss her dress
And cry as I bend low,
" Forgive my youthful foolishness,
I have learned wisdom now."