XXXVIII.
I was brought to such a pass by the sight of this lady, that my eyes began to delight too much in seeing her; whereas I was often angry with myself, and esteemed myself mean enough. And many a time I cursed the vanity of my eyes, and said to them in my thought: “But late ye were wont to make those weep who saw your sad condition, and now it seems that ye wish to forget it by reason of this lady who looks upon you, and who does not look upon you save as she grieves for the lady in glory for whom ye are wont to weep. But whatever ye have power to do, do; for, accursed eyes, very often will I remind you of her; for never, except after death, ought your tears to be stayed.’ And when I had thus spoken within me to my eyes, very deep and distressful sighs assailed me. And in order that this battle which I had with myself might not remain known only to the wretched one who experienced it, I resolved to make a sonnet, and to include in it this horrible condition; and I devised this which begins, “The bitter tears.”
The sonnet has two parts: in the first, I speak to my eyes as my heart spoke within me; in the second, I remove a difficulty, showing who it is that thus speaks; and this part begins here: “Thus saith.” It might indeed receive still further divisions, but this would be needless, since it is clear by reason of the preceding account.
The bitter tears that shed by you have been,
Ye eyes of mine, so long a season now,
Have made the tears of other folk to flow,
Out of compassion, as yourselves have seen,
That you would this forget, it now appears,
If on my part so traitorous I should be
As not to trouble you continually
With thought of her to whom belong your tears.
Your vanity doth care in me beget,
And so alarms me, that I greatly dread
Sight of a dame who on you turns her eyes.
Never should you, until that ye be dead,
Our gentle lady who is dead forget:
Thus saith my heart, and thereupon it sighs.