Classic Poem

The lofty worth and lovely excellence
Dear lady, that thou hast,
Hold me consuming in the fire of love:
That I am much afeared and wildered thence,
As who, being meanly plac'd,
Would win unto some height he dreameth of
Yet, if it be decreed,
After the multiplying of vain thought,
By Fortune's favour he at last is brought
To his far hope, the mighty bliss indeed.

Thus, in considering thy loveliness,
Love maketh me afear'd,—
So high art thou, joyful, and full of good;—
And all the more, thy scorn being never less.
Yet is this comfort heard,—
That underneath the water fire doth brood,
Which thing would seem unfit
By law of nature. So may thy scorn prove
Changed at the last, through pity into love
If favourable Fortune should permit.

Lady, though I do love past utterance,
Let it not seem amiss,
Neither rebuke thou the enamoured eyes.
Look thou thyself on thine own countenance,
From that charm unto this,
All thy perfections of sufficiencies.
So shalt thou rest assured
That thine exceeding beauty lures me on
Perforce, as by the passive magnet-stone
The needle, of its nature's self, is lured.

Certes, it was of Love's dispiteousness
That I must set my life
On thee, proud lady, who accept'st it not.
And how should I attain unto thy grace,
That falter, thus at strife
To speak to thee the thing which is my thought?
Thou, lovely as thou art,
I pray for God, when thou dost pass me by,
Look upon me: so shalt thou certify,
By my cheek's ailing, that which ails my heart.

So thoroughly my love doth tend toward
Thy love its lofty scope,
That I may never think to ease my pain;
Because the ice, when it is frozen hard
May have no further hope
That it should ever become snow again.
But, since Love bids me bend
Unto thy seigniory,
Have pity thou on me,
That so upon thyself all grace descend.