Excerpt from Love Sonnets to Ermingarde

I

Not Summer's breathing, spiced with pink and rose,
Nor Beauty that is felt beyond the day,
Upon my spirit more refreshment throws
Than do those beams that from thy wild eyes play,
Nor have I more admired the fragrancy
And many colors of the gaudy Spring
Than that bright hue which every day I see
Upon thy lips and damask cheeks to cling:
For thou art Nature's sweet compendium
Of her delights, abridged in thy small frame,
And so thy haunt is Love's emporium,
Whose busy suitors give thee forth to fame.
And I, in these poor words, have power to make
Even thy matchless charms new glories take.

II

Then do not scorn me when, with lowly mien,
I creep into the summer of thy glance,
For that thy dear delights are by me seen
Can do thee neither spite nor sufferance.
I count me rich with but the silent bliss
Of gazing on thy star-ennobled face,
And thou, though conscious of my joy in this,
Need not enhance by art one single grace,
For, as the candle to night's winging moth,
Or to the Magian the sacred star,
Art thou to me, and am I nothing loth
To perish where thy fateful beauties are:
But thou wilt not, with cruel treachery,
Betray to scorn one who so worships thee.

About the Publisher

Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com

This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully, any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.