SONNET CXXVIII.
Reading edition
O passi sparsi, o pensier vaghi e pronti.
EVERY CIRCUMSTANCE OF HIS PASSION IS A TORMENT TO HIM.
O scatter'd steps! O vague and busy thoughts! O firm-set memory! O fierce desire! O passion powerful! O failing heart! O eyes of mine, not eyes, but fountains now! O leaf, which honourest illustrious brows, Sole sign of double valour, and best crown! O painful life, O error oft and sweet! That make me search the lone plains and hard hills. O beauteous face! where Love together placed The spurs and curb, to strive with which is vain, They prick and turn me so at his sole will. O gentle amorous souls, if such there be! And you, O naked spirits of mere dust, Tarry and see how great my suffering is! Macgregor.