When beauty to the world vouchsafes this bliss, To show the one whose other there is not, The whitest skins red blushing shame doth blot, And in the reddest cheeks pale envy is. The fair and foul come thus alike by this; For when the sun hath our horizon got, Venus herself doth shine no more, God wot, Than the least star that takes the light from his. The poor in beauty thus content remain To see their jealous cause revenged in thee, And their fair foes afflicted with like pain. Lo, the clear proof of thy divinity; For unto God is only due this praise The highest to pluck down, the low to raise! VI _To his mistress, upon occasion of a Petrarch he gave her, showing her the reason why the Italian commenters dissent so much in the exposition thereof_ Miracle of the world! I never will deny That former poets praise the beauty of their days; But all those beauties were but figures of thy praise, And all those poets did of thee but prophesy. Thy coming to the world hath taught us to descry What Petrarch's Laura meant, for truth the lip bewrays. Lo, why th' Italians, yet which never saw thy rays, To find out Petrarch's sense such forged glosses try! The beauties which he in a veil enclosed beheld But revelations were within his surest heart By which in parables thy coming he foretold; His songs were hymns of thee, which only now before Thy image should be sung; for thou that goddess art Which only we without idolatry adore. VII _Complaint of misfortune in love only_ Now, now I love indeed, and suffer more In one day now then I did in a year; Great flames they be which but small sparkles were, And wounded now, I was but pricked before. No marvel then, though more than heretofore I weep and sigh; how can great wounds be there Where moisture runs not out? and ever, where The fire is great, of smoke there must be store. My heart was hitherto but like green wood, Which must be dried before it will burn bright; My former love served but my heart to dry; Now Cupid for his fire doth find it good: For now it burneth clear, and shall give light For all the world your beauty to espy. VIII _Complaint of his lady's melancholiness_