XVII.
If I am wax to thy sweet will, and hence
Sun myself only in thy sight, (and he
Who views thy radiance uninflamed, must be
Void of all feeling) whence, Señora, whence
Rises a circumstance, whose strange offence
Against the laws of reason, had it been
Less seldom proved on me—less seldom seen,
Had led me to mistrust my very sense—
Whence comes it, that far-off I am inflamed
And kindled by thy aspect, even until
My melting heart its fervour scarce sustains,
Whilst if encountered near by thine untamed,
Untameably bright eye, an instant chill
Makes the blood curdle in my crimson veins?
XVIII. TO JULIO CÆSAR CARACCIOLA.
Julio! when weeping I have left the friend
That never leaves my thought, the better part
Of my cleft soul, that like another heart
Did life and strength to my existence lend,
After my sum of bliss I seem to send
An eye of strict inquiry, and so fast
Find it consuming, that I fear at last
Peace must depart, and ev'n existence end.
And in this fear my tongue strives to converse
With thee, dear friend, of that remembered day,
When I began, sad wanderer to thy shrine
Of beauty, from my own far, far away,
News of thy soul to send in plaintive verse,
And learn from thee intelligence of mine.