Sonnet 7 -

When time nor place would let me often view
Nature's chief mirror, and my sole delight,
Her lively picture in my heart I drew,
That I might it behold both day and night:
But she, like Philip's son, scorning that I
Should portray her, wanting Apelles' art,
Commanded Love, who nought dare her deny,
To burn the picture which was in my heart.
The more Love burned, the more her picture shined;
The more it shined, the more my heart did burn:
So what to hurt her picture was assigned,
To my heart's ruin and decay did turn.
Love could not burn the Saint; it was divine;
And therefore fired my heart, the Saint's poor shrine.
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