The hour and day wherein I oped my eyes
    On the bright black and white,
    Which drive me thence where eager love impell’d
    Where of that life which now my sorrow makes
    New roots, and she in whom our age is proud,
    Whom to behold without a tender awe
    Needs heart of lead or wood.

    The tear then from these eyes that frequent falls—­
    HE thus my pale cheek bathes
    Who planted first within my fenceless flank
    Love’s shaft—­diverts me not from my desire;
    And in just part the proper sentence falls;
    For her my spirit sighs, and worthy she
    To staunch its secret wounds.

    Spring from within me these conflicting thoughts,
    To weary, wound myself,
    Each a sure sword against its master turn’d: 
    Nor do I pray her to be therefore freed,
    For less direct to heaven all other paths,
    And to that glorious kingdom none can soar
    Certes in sounder bark.

    Benignant stars their bright companionship
    Gave to the fortunate side
    When came that fair birth on our nether world,
    Its sole star since, who, as the laurel leaf,
    The worth of honour fresh and fragrant keeps,
    Where lightnings play not, nor ungrateful winds
    Ever o’ersway its head.

    Well know I that the hope to paint in verse
    Her praises would but tire
    The worthiest hand that e’er put forth its pen: 
    Who, in all Memory’s richest cells, e’er saw
    Such angel virtue so rare beauty shrined,
    As in those eyes, twin symbols of all worth,
    Sweet keys of my gone heart?

    Lady, wherever shines the sun, than you
    Love has no dearer pledge.

    MACGREGOR.

SESTINA II

Giovane donna sott’ un verde lauro.

THOUGH DESPAIRING OF PITY, HE VOWS TO LOVE HER UNTO DEATH.

      A youthful lady ’neath a laurel green
    Was seated, fairer, colder than the snow
    On which no sun has shone for many years: 
    Her sweet speech, her bright face, and flowing hair
    So pleased, she yet is present to my eyes,
    And aye must be, whatever fate prevail.

    These my fond thoughts of her shall fade and fail
    When foliage ceases on the laurel green;
    Nor calm can be my heart, nor check’d these eyes
    Until the fire shall freeze, or burns the snow: 
    Easier upon my head to count each hair
    Than, ere that day shall dawn, the parting years.

    But, since time flies, and roll the rapid years,
    And death may, in the midst, of life, assail,
    With full brown locks, or scant and silver hair,
    I still the shade of that sweet laurel green
    Follow, through fiercest sun and deepest snow,
    Till the last day shall close my weary eyes.