He obeyed no absorbing passion of love or hatred.

In his misfortunes he displayed the helplessness which stirs mere pity for a prostrate human being.

The poet who complained so querulously, who wept so copiously, who forgot offense so nonchalantly, cannot command admiration.
There is nothing sublimely tragic in Tasso's suffering.

The sentiment inspired by it is that at best of pathos.

An almost childish self-engrossment restricted his thoughts, his aims and aspirations, to a narrow sphere, within which he wandered incurably idealistic, pursuing prosaic or utilitarian objects--the favor of princes, place at Courts, the recovery of his inheritance--in a romantic and unpractical spirit.[82] Vacillating, irresolute, peevish, he roamed through all the towns of Italy, demanding more than sympathy could give, exhausting friendship, changing from place to place, from lord to lord.