Sonette XXIV
Poem (Canso):
Looming above me, darkness solid is,
Of ebon ice that dissolve never shall.
Stretching on for miles doth he in this hall,
A monument himself to lack of bliss.
Leaning forward, this evil would me kiss
And discard me to nearest sinly thrall.
So treat I then, before my life may fall
To sing of what hath never been in Dis.
He halts anon, my tune he will allow,
That its beauty might sinners further acke,
And then he on me a boon may bestow
So long as it lies in his power to make.
The wager made, I pluck the stringèd part
And sing the tune of love within my heart.