Sonnet LVI
SONNET LVI.
Amor con sue promesse lusingando.
LOVE CHAINS ARE STILL DEAR TO HIM.
By promise fair and artful flatteryMe Love contrived in prison old to snare,And gave the keys to her my foe in care,Who in self-exile dooms me still to lie.Alas! his wiles I knew not until IWas in their power, so sharp yet sweet to bear,(Man scarce will credit it although I swear)That I regain my freedom with a sigh,[Pg 80]And, as true suffering captives ever do,Carry of my sore chains the greater part,And on my brow and eyes so writ my heartThat when she witnesseth my cheek's wan hueA sigh shall own: if right I read his face,Between him and his tomb but small the space!
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