Sonnet No, Ten Louise Labe

When I should view your fair head justly crowned With laurel leaves, please make your lute so plaintively Resound that it compels each rock, each tree To follow you. Oh, when I see you so bedecked And surrounded by ten thousand marks of virtue Of such renown that no one else achieves And all the highest praises that we weave Now tell my heart so passionate for you. So many virtues that make you so well loved By which we all make you so highly valued Will you not also give your love to me? And add to your virtuous fame By remembering my pitiful name That my love may enflame you gently.