CHARLEMONT.

      Go, burning sighs, to her cold bosom go,
    Its circling ice which hinders pity rend,
    And if to mortal prayer Heaven e’er attend,
    Let death or mercy finish soon my woe. 
    Go forth, fond thoughts, and to our lady show
    The love to which her bright looks never bend,
    If still her harshness, or my star offend,
    We shall at least our hopeless error know. 
    Go, in some chosen moment, gently say,
    Our state disquieted and dark has been,
    Even as hers pacific and serene. 
    Go, safe at last, for Love escorts your way: 
    From my sun’s face if right the skies I guess
    Well may my cruel fortune now be less.

    MACGREGOR.

SONNET CXXI.

Le stelle e ’l cielo e gli elementi a prova.

LAURA’S UNPARALLELED BEAUTY AND VIRTUE.

      The stars, the elements, and Heaven have made
    With blended powers a work beyond compare;
    All their consenting influence, all their care,
    To frame one perfect creature lent their aid. 
    Whence Nature views her loveliness display’d
    With sun-like radiance sublimely fair: 
    Nor mortal eye can the pure splendour bear: 
    Love, sweetness, in unmeasured grace array’d. 
    The very air illumed by her sweet beams
    Breathes purest excellence; and such delight
    That all expression far beneath it gleams. 
    No base desire lives in that heavenly light,
    Honour alone and virtue!—­fancy’s dreams
    Never saw passion rise refined by rays so bright.

    CAPEL LOFFT.

      The stars, the heaven, the elements, I ween,
    Put forth their every art and utmost care
    In that bright light, as fairest Nature fair,
    Whose like on earth the sun has nowhere seen;
    So noble, elegant, unique her mien,
    Scarce mortal glance to rest on it may dare,
    Love so much softness and such graces rare
    Showers from those dazzling and resistless een. 
    The atmosphere, pervaded and made pure
    By their sweet rays, kindles with goodness so,
    Thought cannot equal it nor language show. 
    Here no ill wish, no base desires endure,
    But honour, virtue.  Here, if ever yet,
    Has lust his death from supreme beauty met.

    MACGREGOR.

SONNET CXXII.

Non fur mai Giove e Cesare si mossi.

LAURA IN TEARS.

      High Jove to thunder ne’er was so intent,
    So resolute great Caesar ne’er to strike,
    That pity had not quench’d the ire of both,
    And from their hands the accustom’d weapons shook. 
    Madonna wept:  my Lord decreed that I
    Should see her then, and there her sorrows hear;
    So joy, desire should fill