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Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton - Sonnet III
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THE FORNARINA.

AND bless`d was she thou lovedst, for whose sake 
Thy wit did veil in fanciful disguise 
The answer which thou wert compell`d to make 
To Rome`s High Priest, and call`d her then "Thine Eyes;" 
Tho` of her life obscure there is no trace, 
Save where its thread with THY bright history twines,-- 
Tho` all we know of her be that sweet face 
Whose nameless beauty from thy canvass shines,-- 
Dependent still upon her Raphael`s fame, 
And but recorded by her low degree, 
As one who had in life no higher claim 
Than to be painted and be loved by thee;-- 
Yet would I be forgot, as she is now, 
Once to have press`d my lips on that seraphic brow!
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