more give forth any but scolding and painful 
cries. 
And now the depth of the sky affrights me; 
its limpidity exasperates me. The insensibility 
of the sea, the changelessness of the prospect, 
revolt me. Ah! must one eternally suffer, of fly 
eternally before the face of beauty? O! no, piti-
less enchantress ever victorious rival, leave me 
alone’ cease to tempt my passion and my 
pride! The study of the beautiful is a duel 
where the artist cries with fear even before he 
is conquered.