A Stolen Glove - Petrarch

Oh lovely hand, thou that my heart dost wring,
  And shut my life up in that narrow space,
  Hand, to which heaven and Nature, to win grace
Themselves, did all their zeal and cunning bring!
In yon five pearls of orient colouring
  (Though keen and cruel in my single case)
  Five taper fingers Love before my face
Hath bared awhile—what wealth on me to fling!
Oh white and dainty glove, oh glove, which hast
  Covered such roses fresh and ivory clear,
  Has mortal ever seen so sweet a prey?
I would I held her charming veil as fast;
  But oh, the unfaithfulness of all things here!
  ’Tis but a theft, and will be plucked away.

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Petrarch, or Francesco Petrarca (1304-1374) Italy
Translated by Charles Bagot Cayley
Source: The Sonnets of Europe, edited by Samuel Waddington. London: Walter Scott, 1888