I am not forced to look upon your face;
I am not whipped to say your beauty’s rare;
No villain has en-chained me to this place,
Nor machinations base made me to stare.
I freely owe my slavery to me,
And thought I’m slave, it’s all unconsciously.
My judgment’s made him tyrant of my will,
My will has made him master of mine eyes,
My eyes, with their clamped purpose, pull me still
To look, to see, to gaze, and feel them wise.
Up-lift’ to my great fate, I fate me more
To praise your spirit’s face while I adore,
Which while shall last as long as I am free
To tyrant be of my loved slavery!