THough they augmentors of my thraldom be: For her I live, and her I love and none else. O then, fair eyes, look mildly upon me! Who poor, despised, forlorn, must live alone else: And, like Amyntas, haunt the desert cells (And moneyless there breathe out thy cruelty) Where none but Care and Melancholy dwell. I, for revenge, to Nemesis will cry! If that will not prevail; my wandering ghost, Which breathless here this love-scorched trunk shall leave, Shall unto thee, with tragic tidings post! How thy disdain did life from soul bereave. Then, all too late, my death thou wilt repent! When murder's guilt, thy conscience shall torment.
SONNET XXV.
WHo doth not know that Love is triumphant, Sitting upon the throne of majesty? The gods themselves, his cruel darts do daunt: And he, blind boy, smiles at their misery! Love made great Jove ofttimes transform his shape. Love made the fierce Alcides stoop at last. Achilles, stout and bold, could not escape The direful doom which Love upon him cast. Love made Leander pass the dreadful flood, Which Cestos from Abydos doth divide. Love made a chaos where proud Ilion stood. Through Love the Carthaginian Dido died. Thus may we see how Love doth rule and reign; Bringing those under, which his power disdain.