Sonnets
SONNET XXIX
Dante, a sigh, that’s the heart’s messenger
Assailed me suddenly as I lay sleeping;
Aroused, I fell straightway into fear’s keeping,
For Love came with that sigh as curator.
And I turned straight and saw the servitor
Of Monna Lagia, who came there a-crying,
“Ah pity! Aid me!” and at this his sighing
I took from Pity this much power and more:
That I found Love a-filing javelins
And asked him of both torment and solution,
And in this fashion came that Lord’s replies:
“Say to the servant that his service wins.
He holds the Lady to his pleasure won.
If he’d believe it, let him watch her eyes.”
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