 | Amoretti and Epithalamion |  |
LXXXVII.
Since I have lackt the comfort of that light,
The which was wont to lead my thoughts astray;
I wander as in darkenesse of the night,
Affrayd of every dangers least dismay.
Ne ought I see, though in the clearest day,
When others gaze upon theyr shadowes vayne,
But th' onely image of that heavenly ray,
Whereof some glance doth in mine eie remayne.
Of which beholding the Idaea playne,
Through contemplation of my purest part,
With light thereof I doe my selfe sustayne,
And thereon feed my love-affamisht hart.
But, with such brightnesse whylest I fill my mind,
I starve my body, and mine eyes doe blynd.
The which was wont to lead my thoughts astray;
I wander as in darkenesse of the night,
Affrayd of every dangers least dismay.
Ne ought I see, though in the clearest day,
729
When others gaze upon theyr shadowes vayne,
But th' onely image of that heavenly ray,
Whereof some glance doth in mine eie remayne.
Of which beholding the Idaea playne,
Through contemplation of my purest part,
With light thereof I doe my selfe sustayne,
And thereon feed my love-affamisht hart.
But, with such brightnesse whylest I fill my mind,
I starve my body, and mine eyes doe blynd.
| Amoretti and Epithalamion | |