Sonnet 19
“Alma minha gentil, que te partiste.”
Spirit beloved! whose wing so soon hath flown
The joyless precincts of this earthly sphere,
How is yon Heaven eternally thine own,
Whilst I deplore thy loss, a captive here!
Oh! if allow’d in thy divine abode
Of aught on earth an image to retain,
Remember still the fervent love which glow’d
In my fond bosom, pure from every stain.
And if thou deem’d that all my faithful grief,
Caused by thy loss, and hopeless of relief,
Can merit thee, sweet native of the skies!
Oh! ask of Heaven, which call’d thee soon away,
That I may join thee in those realms of day,
Swiftly as thou hast vanish’d from mine eyes.