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Poem	SONNET CXLIX. Amor che 'ncende 'l cor d' ardente zelo. LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 'Tis Love's caprice to freeze the bosom nowWith bolts of ice, with shafts of flame now burn;And which his lighter pang, I scarce discern—Or hope or fear, or whelming fire or snow.In heat I shiver, and in cold I glow,Now thrill'd with love, with jealousy now torn:As if her thin robe by a rival worn,Or veil, had screen'd him from my vengeful blowBut more 'tis mine to burn by night, by day;And how I love the death by which I die,Nor thought can grasp, nor tongue of bard can sing:Not so my freezing fire—impartiallyShe shines to all; and who would speed his wayTo that high beam, in vain expands his fluttering wing. Wrangham. Love with hot zeal now burns the heart within,Now holds it fetter'd with a frozen fear,Leaving it doubtful to our judgment hereIf hope or dread, if flame or frost, shall win.In June I shiver, burn December in,Full of desires, from jealousy ne'er clear;E'en as a lady who her loving feeHides 'neath a little veil of texture thin.Of the two ills the first is all mine own,By day, by night to burn; how sweet that painDwells not in thought, nor ever poet sings:Not so the other, my fair flame, is shown,[Pg 168]She levels all: who hopes the crest to gainOf that proud light expands in vain his wings. Macgregor.
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