Sento D’Un Foco Un Freddo Aspetto Acceso

I See a face that in itself is cold, Yet lit with fire that burneth me afar; Two arms, that quiet and unmoving are, Whereby all else is moved and controlled; The vision of a beauty I behold, Immortal, yet pursuing me to death; A power that free, my own envelopeth; Another’s balm, that may my hurt enfold. How can befall, that a fair countenance Hath power to cause effect so contrary, Creating what it doth now own? Perchance, The life that taketh my felicity, Yet doth itself deny, is like the sun, That yieldeth the world heat, yet heat hath none.