Chapter IV: To Charles Diodati

Diodati--and I muse to tell the tale--
This stubborn I, that Love was wont despise,
And made a laughter of his snares, unwise,
Am fallen, where honest feet will sometimes fail.
Not golden tresses, not a cheek vermeil, 5
Bewitched me thus; but, in a new-world guise,
A beauty that the heart beatifies;
A mien where high-souled modesty I hail;
Eyes softly splendent with a darkness dear;
A speech that more than one tongue vassal hath; 10
A voice that in the middle hemisphere
Might make the tired moon wander from her path;
While from her eyes such potent flashes shoot,
That to stop hard my ears would little boot.