SONNETS. II. FAIR Lady! whose harmonious name the Rhine, Through all his grassy vale, delights to hear, Base were indeed the wretch, who could forbear To love a spirit elegant as thine, That manifests a sweetness all divine, Nor knows a thousand winning acts to spare, And graces, which Love's bow and arrows are, Temp'ring thy virtues to a softer shine. When gracefully thou speak'st, or singest gay, Such strains, as might the senseless forest move, Ah then-turn each his eyes, and ears, away, Who feels himself unworthy of thy love! Grace can alone preserve him, ere the dart, Of fond desire yet reach his inmost heart. III. As on a hill-top rude, when closing day So, on my tongue these accents, new, and rare, And Thames exchange for Arno's fair domain; So Love has will'd, and oftimes Love has shown That what he wills, he never wills in vain. Oh that this hard and steril breast might be, To Him, who plants from Heav'n, a soil as free! CANZONE. THEY mock my toil-the nymphs and am'rous swains And whence this fond attempt to write, they cry, Her deathless laurel leaf, with which to bind Why then this burthen, better far declin'd? Speak Muse! for me.-The fair one said, who guides My willing heart, and all my fancy's flights, "This is the language, in which love delights." IV. TO CHARLES DEODATI. CHARLES-and I say it wond'ring-thou must know That I, who once assum'd a scornful air, Of golden locks, or damask cheek; more rare And song, whose fascinating pow'r might bind, V. LADY! it cannot be, but that thine eyes Whence my sad nights in show'rs are ever drown'd, |