Sonnet XXVII: Within my spirit was conceived in train

Within my spirit was conceived in train
Of amiable esteem a love most sweet,
Whose birth, with all the joy with which men greet
Their first-born's birth, long wished for, but in vain,
I hailed,--but soon from it was born a bane
Which has entirely conquered that fond flight
Of feeling, and transformed my first delight
Into sharp rigour and tormenting pain.
O cruel grandson, that to thy meek sire
Giv'st life, yet strik'st thy mournful grandsire dead,
Why so unlike thy parent! what black scowl
Wear'st thou, stern Jealousy, beneath thy cowl,
When ev'n thine own fierce mother, Envy dire,
Shrieks to behold the monster which she bred!