Page:Sonnets and Ballate of Guido Cavalcanti.djvu/125

 HE eyes of this gentle maid of the forest Have set my mind in such bewilderment That all my wistful thoughts on her are bent.

So doth she pierce me when mine eyes regard her That I hear sighs a-trembling in mine heart As from her eyes aye sources of mine ardour The quaint small spirits of Amor forth-dart From which small sprites such greater powers start That when they reach me my faint soul is sent Exhausted forth to swoon in banishment.

I feel how from mine eyes the sighs forth-fare When my mind reasoneth with me of her, Till I see torments raining through the air. Draggled by griefs, which I by these incur, Mine every strength turns mine abandoner, And I know not what place I am toward, Save that Death hath me in his castle-yard.

And I am so outworn that now for mercy I am not bold to cry out even in thought, And I find Love, who speaking saith of her, “See, She is not one whose image could be wrought.