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Poem	SONNET CIII. Amor m' ha posto come segno a strale. LOVE'S ARMOURY. Love makes me as the target for his dart,As snow in sunshine, or as wax in flame,Or gale-driven cloud; and, Laura, on thy nameI call, but thou no pity wilt impart.Thy radiant eyes first caused my bosom's smart;No time, no place can shield me from their beam;From thee (but, ah, thou treat'st it as a dream!)Proceed the torments of my suff'ring heart.Each thought's an arrow, and thy face a sun,My passion's flame: and these doth Love employTo wound my breast, to dazzle, and destroy.Thy heavenly song, thy speech with which I'm won,All thy sweet breathings of such strong controul,Form the dear gale that bears away my soul. Nott. Me Love has placed as mark before the dart,As to the sun the snow, as wax to fire,As clouds to wind: Lady, e'en now I tire,Craving the mercy which never warms thy heart.[Pg 132]From those bright eyes was aim'd the mortal blow,'Gainst which nor time nor place avail'd me aught;From thee alone—nor let it strange be thought—The sun, the fire, the wind whence I am so.The darts are thoughts of thee, thy face the sun,The fire my passion; such the weapons beWith which at will Love dazzles yet destroys.Thy fragrant breath and angel voice—which wonMy heart that from its thrall shall ne'er be free—The wind which vapour-like my frail life flies. Macgregor.
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