Fair eyes, the mirror of my mazed heart,
What wondrous virtue is contained in you,
The which both life and death forth from you dart
Into the object of your mighty view?
For when ye mildly look with lovely hew,
Then is my soul with life and love inspired
But when ye lour, or look on me askew,
Then do I die, as one with lightning fired.
But since that life is more than death desired,
Look ever lovely, as becomes you best,
That your bright beams of my weak eyes admired,
May kindle living fire within my breast.
Such life should be the honor of your light,
Such death the sad ensample of your might.