by dint of never seeing in his imagination anything but a proud young man, thinks that he has himself become a proud young man ... it is the misfortune of the impassioned lover not to realise that while he sees in front of him a beutiful face, his mistress is seeing his face, which is not made any more beautiful, far from it, when it is distorted by the pleasure that is aroused in by the sight of beauty.
The Captive
Isn't it in the Masque of The Red Death where Poe writes that we cannot observe our own laughter, or tears, in a mirror without being reminded of the skull beneath our face?
