WONDER not, though I am blind, For you must be Dark in your eyes or in your mind, If, when you see Her face, you prove not blind like me. If the powerful beams that fly From her eye, And those amorous sweets that lie Scatter'd in each neighbouring part, Find a passage to your heart; Then you 'll confess your mortal sight Too weak for such a glorious light: For if her graces you discover, You grow, like me, a dazzl'd lover: But if those beauties you not spy, Then are you blinder far than I. |