Canzon 2. Though be thou limned in these discoloured lines

Anonymous

THOUGH be thou limned in these discoloured lines,

(Delicious Model of my spirit’s portrait!)

Though be thou sable pencilled, these designs

Shadow not beauty, but a sorrow’s extract!

When I emprised, though in my love’s affections,

The silver lustre of thy brow to unmask!

Though hath my Muse hyperbolised trajections;

Yet stands it, aye, deficient to such task.

My slubb’ring pencil casts too gross a matter,

Thy beauty’s pure divinity to blaze!

For when my smoothèd tongue hath sought to flatter,

Thy Worth hath dearthed his words, for thy true praise!

Then though my pencil glance here on thine eyes;

Sweet! think thy Fair, it doth but portionise!