Sonnet CXLVIII
SONNET CXLVIII.
Amor fra l' orbe una leggiadra rete.
HE COMPARES HIMSELF TO A BIRD CAUGHT IN A NET.
Love 'mid the grass beneath a laurel green—The plant divine which long my flame has fed,Whose shade for me less bright than sad is seen—A cunning net of gold and pearls had spread:[Pg 167]Its bait the seed he sows and reaps, I weenBitter and sweet, which I desire, yet dread:Gentle and soft his call, as ne'er has beenSince first on Adam's eyes the day was shed:And the bright light which disenthrones the sunWas flashing round, and in her hand, more fairThan snow or ivory, was the master rope.So fell I in the snare; their slave so wonHer speech angelical and winning air,Pleasure, and fond desire, and sanguine hope.
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