XXXVI.
SWeet sang thy bird, in ebon cage shut fast, And did delight thy dainty ears so much As thou vouchsafedst to give him meat at last; And gently did his feathers stroke and touch. So, Lady, I likewise, in th' ebony Of thy bright eyes am prisoner, and do sing Thy Beauty's praise; and yet not fed am I By thee: yet live through thee; a wondrous thing! Love to my heart thy beauty doth supply For food; which else, through famine starved, would die.
XXXVII.
IF white's the Moon, thou Laura seem'st as white; And white's the gown which you on body wear. And if her whitely horns, in calmy night, She, smoothly gliding, shows to us most clear: You, in the daytime, more and brighter far Your beauty show; like bright Aurora's star. Like brightness both of you abroad do cast; Though not effect alike per accidens: You shine, she shines, your powers eternal last; But yet between you is great difference. Her brightness freezeth, causing deadly cold: Yours doth inflame, and lovely fire doth hold.
XXXVIII.