Esther M. Zimmer Lederberg
Richard Linche: 1548-1601, Sonnet XXII
LOOK, as a bird, through sweetness of the call,
doth clean forget the fowler’s guileful trap;
Or one that gazing on the stars, doth fall
in some deep pit, bewailing his mishap:
So wretched I, whilst, with Lynceus’ eyes,
I greedily beheld her angel’s face,
Was straight entangled with such subtilties,
as, ever since, I live in woful case.
Her cheeks were roses laid in crystal glass;
her breasts, two apples of Hesperides;
Her voice, more sweet than famous THAMIRAS,
reviving death with Doric melodies:
I, hearkening so to this attractive call,
Was caught, and ever since have lived in thrall.
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