Chapter XXXVI

It happened after this, that whensoever I was seen of this lady, she became pale and of a piteous countenance, as though it had been with love; whereby she remembered me many times of my own most noble lady, who was wont to be of a like paleness. And I know that often, when I could not weep nor in any way give ease unto mine anguish, I went to look upon this lady, who seemed to bring the tears into my eyes by the mere sight of her. Of the which thing I bethought me to speak unto her in rhyme, and then made this sonnet: which begins, “Love’s pallor,” and which is plain without being divided, by its exposition aforesaid:—

Love’s pallor and the semblance of deep ruth Were never yet shown forth so perfectly In any lady’s face, chancing to see Grief’s miserable countenance uncouth, As in thine, lady, they have sprung to soothe, When in mine anguish thou hast looked on me; Until sometimes it seems as if, through thee, My heart might almost wander from its truth. Yet so it is, I cannot hold mine eyes From gazing very often upon thine In the sore hope to shed those tears they keep; And at such time, thou mak’st the pent tears rise Even to the brim, till the eyes waste and pine; Yet cannot they, while thou art present, weep.