Page:Elegiac Sonnets and Other Essays The Second Edition.pdf/35

[  21    ] SONNET, FROM PETRARCH. OOSE to the wind her golden tresses stream'd, And form'd bright waves with amorous Zephyr's sighs;
 * And, tho' averted now, her charming eyes

Then with warm love and melting pity beam'd. Was I deceiv'd?--Ah! surely, nymph divine,
 * That fine suffusion on thy cheek was love;
 * What wonder then those lovely tints should move,

Should fire this heart, this tender heart of mine! Thy soft melodious voice, thy air, thy shape,
 * Where of a goddess, not a mortal maid;
 * But tho' thy charms, thy heavenly charms should fade,

My heart, my tender heart could not escape;
 * Nor cure for me in time or change be found;
 * The shaft extractd, does not cure the wound.

Rh