Sonnet

No more that condemned self this country roams;
    Nor need I blow Solitude's oboe.
What need have I to fasten fancied moans
    To staring stars when I feel Cupid's bow?
I have escaped from misery innate;
    Redeemed, as Fortune's own Odysseus
From thoughtful strife, unenviable fate,
    Released from smirks and taunts facetious.
An angel, humble, beautiful and merry
    Uses me as a shadow's poorer side.
She disavowed the cruel gooseberry
    And marked a saltant turn in Fortune's tide.
        So never may this verse sublime you see
        Or it disprove by changed felicity.