3280I would have thrown the die my fortune tried,
T' have bought you freedom though in crimson dyed.
For, when mine eyes sent forth the farthest glance,
To fetch th' idea of your beauty in,
That very sight my senses did entrance,
And make my thoughts excuse Sylvanus' sin.
For sure your quick'ning rays can melt a snow
On which the winds of age and sorrow blow.
But why do I upon the Ela raise
Thy noble worth, and yet intend to woo?