Sonnet CXLIX.

Amor che 'ncende 'l cor d' ardente zelo.     LOVE AND JEALOUSY.         'Tis Love's caprice to freeze the bosom now     With bolts of ice, with shafts of flame now burn;     And which his lighter pang, I scarce discern--     Or hope or fear, or whelming fire or snow.     In heat I shiver, and in cold I glow,     Now thrill'd with love, with jealousy now torn:     As if her thin robe by a rival worn,     Or veil, had screen'd him from my vengeful blow     But more 'tis mine to burn by night, by day;     And how I love the death by which I die,     Nor thought can grasp, nor tongue of bard can sing:     Not so my freezing fire--impartially     She shines to all; and who would speed his way     To that high beam, in vain expands his fluttering wing.     WRANGHAM.         Love with hot zeal now burns the heart within,     Now holds it fetter'd with a frozen fear,     Leaving it doubtful to our judgment here     If hope or dread, if flame or frost, shall win.     In June I shiver, burn December in,     Full of desires, from jealousy ne'er clear;     E'en as a lady who her loving fee     Hides 'neath a little veil of texture thin.     Of the two ills the first is all mine own,     By day, by night to burn; how sweet that pain     Dwells not in thought, nor ever poet sings:     Not so the other, my fair flame, is shown,     She levels all: who hopes the crest to gain     Of that proud light expands in vain his wings.     MACGREGOR.