Sonnet LXVIII
SONNET LXVIII.
Conobbi, quanto il ciel gli occhi m' aperse.
HER PRAISES ARE, COMPARED WITH HER DESERTS, BUT AS A DROP TO THE OCEAN.
So far as to mine eyes its light heaven show'd,So far as love and study train'd my wings,Novel and beautiful but mortal thingsFrom every star I found on her bestow'd:So many forms in rare and varied modeOf heavenly beauty from immortal springsMy panting intellect before me brings,Sunk my weak sight before their dazzling load.Hence, whatsoe'er I spoke of her or wrote,Who, at God's right, returns me now her prayers,Is in that infinite abyss a mote:For style beyond the genius never dares;Thus, though upon the sun man fix his sight,He seeth less as fiercer burns its light.