Sonnets, Etc, VIII

If I live on, dear Lady, in the void Caused by your absences, I seem to' offend Him who adores you, and to discommend The bliss that in your presence I enjoyed. Soon by another thought am I annoyed— If I of life despair, I forfeit too The good I hope for in beholding you; By ills so varying is my peace destroyed. My feelings in this variance all take part So fiercely, that I know not what decreed Me to such grievances—I never look On their dissensions without swift rebuke, But night and day they war with nicest art. And in my ruin are alone agreed.