But in that fatal glass most blame I see,
That weary with your oft self-liking grows.
It on my lord placed silence, when my suit
He would have urged, but, seeing your desire
End in yourself alone, he soon was mute.
’Twas fashion’d in hell’s wave and o’er its fire,
And tinted in eternal Lethe: thence
The spring and secret of my death commence.
MACGREGOR.
SONNET XXXIX.
Io sentia dentr’ al cor gia venir meno.
HE DESIRES AGAIN TO GAZE ON THE EYES Of LAURA.
I now perceived
that from within me fled
Those spirits to which you
their being lend;
And since by nature’s
dictates to defend
Themselves from death all
animals are made,
The reins I loosed, with which
Desire I stay’d,
And sent him on his way without
a friend;
There whither day and night
my course he’d bend,
Though still from thence by
me reluctant led.
And me ashamed and slow along
he drew
To see your eyes their matchless
influence shower,
Which much I shun, afraid
to give you pain.
Yet for myself this once I’ll
live; such power
Has o’er this wayward
life one look from you:—
Then die, unless Desire prevails
again.
ANON., OX., 1795.
Because the powers
that take their life from you
Already had I felt within
decay,
And because Nature, death
to shield or slay,
Arms every animal with instinct
true,
To my long-curb’d desire
the rein I threw,
And turn’d it in the
old forgotten way,
Where fondly it invites me
night and day,
Though ’gainst its will,
another I pursue.
And thus it led me back, ashamed
and slow,
To see those eyes with love’s
own lustre rife
Which I am watchful never
to offend:
Thus may I live perchance
awhile below;
One glance of yours such power
has o’er my life
Which sure, if I oppose desire,
shall end.
MACGREGOR.
SONNET XL.
Se mai foco per foco non si spense.
HIS HEART IS ALL IN FLAMES, BUT HIS TONGUE IS MUTE, IN HER PRESENCE.
If fire was never
yet by fire subdued,
If never flood fell dry by
frequent rain,
But, like to like, if each
by other gain,
And contraries are often mutual
food;
Love, who our thoughts controllest
in each mood,
Through whom two bodies thus
one soul sustain,
How, why in her, with such
unusual strain
Make the want less by wishes
long renewed?
Perchance, as falleth the
broad Nile from high,
Deafening with his great voice
all nature round,
And as the sun still dazzles
the fix’d eye,
So with itself desire in discord
found
Loses in its impetuous object
force,
As the too frequent spur oft
checks the course.