The First Part: Sonnet 11 - Lamp of heaven's crystal hall that brings the hours,

Lamp of heaven's crystal hall that brings the hours,
Eye-dazzler, who makes the ugly night
At thine approach fly to her slumb'ry bow'rs,
And fills the world with wonder and delight;
Life of all lives, death-giver by thy flight
To southern pole from these six signs of ours,
Goldsmith of all the stars, with silver bright
Who moon enamels, Apelles of the flow'rs;
Ah! from those watery plains thy golden head
Raise up, and bring the so long lingering morn;
A grave, nay, hell, I find become this bed,
This bed so grievously where I am torn;
But, woe is me! though thou now brought the day,
Day shall but serve more sorrow to display.