Samuel Daniel - Sonnet XLVII: Read In My FaceSamuel Daniel - Sonnet XLVII: Read In My Face
Work rating:
Low
Read in my face a volume of despairs,
The wailing Iliads of my tragic woe,
Drawn with my blood and printed with my cares
Wrought by her hand, that I have honor`d so.
Who, whilst I burn, she sings at my soul`s wrack,
Looking aloft from turret of her pride;
There my soul`s tyrant joys her in the sack
Of her own seat, whereof I made her guide.
There do these smokes that from affliction rise,
Serve as an incense to a cruel Dame;
A sacrifice thrice grateful to her eyes,
Because their power serve to exact the same.
Thus ruins she, to satisfy her will,
The Temple where her name was honor`d still.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.