Francesco's Ode

When I look about the place

Where sorrow nurseth up disgrace,

Wrapp'd within a fold of cares,

Whose distress no heart spares;

Eyes might look, but see no light,

Heart might think, but on despite;

Sun did shine, but not on me.

Sorrow said, it may not be

That heart or eye should once possess

Any salve to cure distress;

For men in prison must suppose

Their couches are the beds of woes.

Seeing this, I sighed then

Fortune thus should punish men:

But when I call'd to mind her face,

For whose love I brook this place,

Starry eyes, whereat my sight

Did eclipse with much delight,

Eyes that lighten, and do shine,

Beams of love that are divine,

Lily cheeks, whereon beside

Buds of roses show their pride,

Cherry lips, which did speak

Words that made all hearts to break,

Words most sweet, for breath was sweet,

Such perfume for love is meet,

Precious words, as hard to tell

Which more pleased, wit or smell;

When I saw my greatest pains

Grow for her that beauty stains,

Fortune thus I did reprove,

"Nothing grief-full grows from love.—