Sonnet: Of his Pain from a new Love

Why from the danger did not mine eyes start,—
Why not become even blind,—ere through my sight
Within my soul thou ever couldst alight
To say: “Dost thou not hear me in thy heart?”
New torment then, the old torment's counterpart,
Fill'd me at once with such a sore affright,
That, Lady, lady, (I said,) destroy not quite
Mine eyes and me! O help us where thou art!
Thou hast so left mine eyes, that Love is fain—
Even Love himself—with pity uncontroll'd
To bend above them, weeping for their loss:
Saying: If any man feel heavy pain,
This man's more painful heart let him behold:
Death has it in her hand, cut like a cross.