III.
If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?
O never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow’d:
Though to myself forsworn, to thee I’ll constant prove;
Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like osiers bow’d.
If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice;
Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend;
All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder;
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire:
Thine eye Jove’s lightning seems, thy voice his dreadful thunder,
Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire.
O never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow’d:
Though to myself forsworn, to thee I’ll constant prove;
Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like osiers bow’d.
| Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, |
| Where all those pleasures live that art can comprehend. |
Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend;
All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder;
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire:
Thine eye Jove’s lightning seems, thy voice his dreadful thunder,
Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire.
| Celestial as thou art, O do not love that wrong, |
| To sing heaven’s praise with such an earthly tongue. |
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