XIVNot from the stars do I my judgement pluck;And yet methinks I have astronomy,But not to tell of good or evil luck,Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons’ quality;Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,Or say with princes if it shall go wellBy oft predict that I in heaven find:But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,And constant stars in them I read such artAs ‘Truth and beauty shall together thrive,If from thyself, to store thou wouldst convert’;Or else of thee this I prognosticate:‘Thy end is truth’s and beauty’s doom and date.’
Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck;And yet methinks I have astronomy,But not to tell of good or evil luck,Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons’ quality;Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,Or say with princes if it shall go wellBy oft predict that I in heaven find:But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,And constant stars in them I read such artAs ‘Truth and beauty shall together thrive,If from thyself, to store thou wouldst convert’;Or else of thee this I prognosticate:‘Thy end is truth’s and beauty’s doom and date.’