The poet's reasoning completely fails him. Reason, in the form of a physician, has left him because it can do nothing more to save him from the despair of loving the mistress. Again he acknowledges that his soul's immortality is beyond reach: "Desire is death. . . . / Past cure I am, now reason is past care." His thoughts now move madly, expressed in such terms as "frantic mad," "evermore unrest," "madmen's," and "At random." Despite his ability in the concluding couplet to differentiate between his expectations of his relationship with the woman and the outcome of that relationship, his despondent tone indicates that he is too far gone ever to regain self-confidence.