Cruel love, conqueror
Of my life his subject,
Has so clearly written on my heart
Your name with his arrow
That time, which can break 
Iron and hard stone
Could not wipe it off
So that it does not [last]1 while I’m alive.

But your stubborn heart,
Less pitiful still
Than the unruly ocean 
Which bathes the Moorish coast,
Does not like my service,
But wants to sacrifice
My own, consecrated to it
From the earliest years of my life.

Jupiter, excited
By a similar passionate love,
Once abandoned
His throne and his storm;
For his eye, which compelled his heart
As sometimes our hearts are compelled,
Forced this great lord
To try a human love.

Impatient with the desire
Growing from his love-struck flame,
He [gave]2 himself over to love
Like the captured spoils of war.
Then his arms, head and flanks
And his breast he head
Beneath a plumage whiter
Than milk on scattered rushes.

And his neck wore a collar
With a chain, on which the work
Of hard-working Vulcan
Could be seen and admired.
The hoops were of gold
[Together with enamel of many colours]3.
The bow which the waters draw
This lovely piece of work resembled.