Love's torches 'gan to burn first in her eyes.
And set his heart on fire which never dies:
For the fair beauty of a virgin pure
Is sharper than a dart, and doth inure
A deeper wound, which pierceth to the heart
By the eyes, and causeth such a cruel smart.
———et me fascino
Occidit ille risus et formae lepos,
Ille nitor, illa gratia, et verus decor,
Illae aemulantes purpuram, et [4942]rosas genae,