She doth me summon, banish, freeze, inflame,
She, the sweet enemy unto my glory,
From whose illustrious life and being fame
Can weave a strange, and yet a truthful story:
Her eyes alone, wherein Love sets his claim
To power, and all his winsomeness before ye,
Present a theme to raise to Heaven's height
A quill from any wing of lowly flight.
ELICIO.
A quill from any wing of lowly flight,
If it would wish unto the sky to rise,
The courtesy must sing, the zeal for right,
Of this rare phœnix, peerless 'neath the skies,
Our age's glory, and the world's delight,
Of the clear Tagus and its bank the prize,
Unequalled wisdom hers, and beauty rare,
Nature achieved her highest work in her.
ERASTRO.
Nature achieved her highest work in her,
In her the thought hath equal been to the art,
In her both worth and grace united were,
Which in all other maids are found apart,
In her humility and greatness share
Together side by side the self-same part,
In her Love hath his nest and dwelling made,
And yet my foe hath been the thankless maid.
ELICIO.
And yet my foe hath been the thankless maid,
Who would, and could, and should at once my thought
That wanders free, hold fast, if but the aid
Of one of her gossamer locks she sought;
Though I within the narrow noose am laid,
My capture is with so much pleasure fraught,
That foot and neck I stretch out to the chain,
Sweet is the name I call my bitter pain.
ERASTRO.
Sweet is the name I call my bitter pain,
Short is the life and full of misery
Of the sad soul my frame doth scarce sustain,
And sustenance doth scarce to it supply,
To my brief hope that it the crown should gain
Of faith, fortune once promised bounteously;
What pleasure, good or glory doth he know,
Where hope diminisheth and faith doth grow?
ELICIO.