sonnet.
Bright authoress of my good or ill, Prescribe the law I must observe; My heart, obedient to thy will, Shall never from its duty swerve.
If you refuse my griefs to know, The stifled anguish seals my fate; But if your ears would drink my woe, Love shall himself the tale relate.
Though contraries my heart compose, Hard as the diamond's solid frame, And soft as yielding wax that flows, To thee, my fair, 'tis still the same.
Take it, for every stamp prepared; Imprint what characters you choose; The faithful tablet, soft or hard, The dear impression ne'er shall lose.
The sorrows that may arise from well-placed affections, ought rather to be accounted blessings than calamities.
Good fare lessens care.