Sonnet Xlv: Delia, These Eyes

Delia, these eyes that so admireth thine Have seen those walls the which ambition rear'd To check the world, how they entomb'd have lyen Within themselves, and on them plows have ear'd. Yet for all that no barbarous hand attain'd The spoil of fame deserv'd by virtuous men, Whose glorious actions luckily had gain'd Th'eternal Annals of a happier pen. Why then, though Delia fade, let that not move her, Though Time do spoil her of the fairest veil That ever yet mortality did cover, Which shall enstar the needle and the trail. That grace, that virtue all that serv'd t' enwoman Doth her unto eternity assummon.