Whene’re I curse the gods that did allow
Your eyes to shine and make men surely yield
To love’s firm collar worn with fervent vow
That’s sighed on lips sweet passion pressed and sealed,
Then spills my soul, thus flowing from my eyes,
Where oft you set my spirit all ablaze,
Displaying here the truth which underlies
How on myself my own dire curse now preys.
Were men to know some beauty holds misuse
As you revealed your glancing eyes’ design
Should they still invite smiles or seek excuse,
Forswear that beauty others call divine.
Oh no, you’d see the tale would still unfold
For men forsake their sense when they see gold.