Translations. - Milton's Italian Poems. Iv.

Diodati—and I muse to tell the tale— This stubborn I, that Love was wont despise And make a laughter of his snares, unwise, Am fallen—where honest feet will sometimes fail. Not golden tresses, not a cheek vermeil, Dazzle me thus; but, in a new-world guise, A foreign Fair my heart beatifies— With mien where high-souled modesty I hail; Eyes softly splendent with a darkness dear; A speech that more than one tongue vassal hath; A voice that in the middle hemisphere Might make the tired moon wander from her path; While from her eyes such gracious flashes shoot That stopping hard my ears were little boot.