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Lovers' LamentsRenaissance sonnets and the art of passionate excess.

By Robert PinskyPosted Thursday, Feb. 12, 2009, at 6:52 AM ET

(Continued from page 2)

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O grammar rules, O now your virtue show;
So children still read you with aweful eyes,
As my young dove may, in your precepts wise,
Her grant to me by my own virtue know;
For late, with heart most high, with eyes most low,
I craved the thing which ever she denies;
She, lightning Love displaying Venus's skies,
Lest once should not be heard, twice said, No, No!
Sing then, my muse, now Io Paean sing;
Heav'ns envy not at my high triumphing,
But grammar's force with sweet success confirm;
For grammar says—Oh this, dear Stella weigh—
For grammar says—to grammar who says nay?
That in one speech two negatives affirm.

The sacred muse that first made love divine
Hath made him naked and without attire;
But I will clothe him with this pen of mine,
That all the world his fashion shall admire:
His hat of hope, his band of beauty fine,
His cloak of craft, his doublet of desire,
Greed, for a girdle, shall about him twine,
His points of pride, his codpiece of conceit,
His stockings of stern strife, his shirt of shame,
His garters of vain‑glory gay and slight,
His pantofles of passion I will frame;
***Pumps of presumption shall adorn his feet,
***And socks of sullenness exceeding sweet.

The hardness of her heart and truth of mine
When the all‑seeing eyes of heaven did see,
They straight concluded that by power divine
To other forms our hearts should turned be.
Then hers, as hard as flint, a flint became,
And mine, as true as steel, to steel was turned;
And then between our hearts sprang forth the flame
Of kindest love, which unextinguished burned.
And long the sacred lamp of mutual love
Incessantly did burn in glory bright,
Until my folly did her fury move
To recompense my service with despite;
***And to put out with snuffers of her pride
***The lamp of love which else had never died.

My case is this, I love Zepheria bright,
Of her I hold my heart by fealty:
Which I discharge to her perpetually,
Yet she thereof will never me acquite.
For now supposing I withhold her right
She hath distrained my heart to satisfy
The duty which I never did deny
And far away impounds it with despite:
I labour justly therefore to repleve
My heart which she unjustly doth impound
But quick conceit which now is love's high Shreve
Returns it as eloigned, not to be found:
***Then which the law affords I only crave
***Her heart for mine in withernam to have.

No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell.
Nay, if you read this line, remember not
The hand that writ it; for I love you so
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
O if, I say, you look upon this verse
When I, perhaps, compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,
But let your love even with my life decay,
***Lest the wise world should look into your moan,
***And mock you with me after I am gone.

The lover under burthen of his mistress' love
Which like to Aetna did his heart oppress,
Did give such piteous groans that he did move
The heav'ns at length to pity his distress.
But for the Fates, in their high court above,
Forbade to make the grievous burden less,
The gracious powers did all conspire to prove
If miracle this mischief might redress.
Therefore, regarding that the load was such
As no man might with one man's might sustain,
And that mild patience imported much
To him that should endure an endless pain,
***By their decree he soon transformed was
***Into a patient burden‑bearing ass.