I thought the law would clearly broken be In thee, that avaricious Love doth use; I thought that thou thine eyes on high wouldst raise Unto a captive soul that serves but thee, So ready to perform what thou dost choose, That, if thou didst but know, 'twould earn thy praise. For a faith that assays By the vain pomps of wealth so full of care All its desires, thou wouldst not change, I thought, A faith that was so fraught With tokens of good faith, Silveria fair. Thyself thou didst to gold Yield that thou mightst yield me to grief untold. Oh poverty, that creepest on the ground, Cause of the grief that doth my soul enrage, He praiseth thee, thy face who never saw. Thy visage did my shepherdess confound, At once thy harshness did her love assuage, She to escape thee doth her foot withdraw. This is thy cruel law, Vainly doth one aspire the goal to find Of amorous purpose; thou high hopes abasest And countless changes placest Within the greedy breast of womankind, But never dost thou bless The worth of lovers with complete success. Gold is a sun, whose ray the keenest eyes Blindeth, if on the semblance they be fed Of interest, that doth beguile the sight. He that is liberal-handed wins the prize, Even her hand, who, by her avarice led, Fair though she be, declares her heart's delight. 'Tis gold that turns the sight From the pure purpose and the faith sincere; More than a lover's firmness is undone By the diamond stone, Whose hardness turns to wax a bosom fair, However hard it be; Its fancy thus it winneth easily. Oh sweet my foe I suffer grief untold For thee, because thy matchless charms thou hast Made ugly by a proof of avarice. So much didst thou reveal thy love of gold That thou my passion didst behind thee cast And to oblivion didst my care dismiss. Now thou art wed! Ah, this Ends all! Wed, shepherdess! I pray that Heaven Thy choice, as thou thyself wouldst wish, may bless, That for my bitterness A just reward may not to thee be given.-- But, alas! Heaven, our friend, Guerdon to virtue, stripes to ill doth send.