| |
| SEE the Chariot at hand here of Love, | |
| Wherein my Lady rideth! | |
| Each that draws is a swan or a dove, | |
| And well the car Love guideth. | |
| As she goes, all hearts do duty | 5 |
| Unto her beauty; | |
| And enamour’d do wish, so they might | |
| But enjoy such a sight, | |
| That they still were to run by her side, | |
| Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride. | 10 |
| |
| Do but look on her eyes, they do light | |
| All that Love’s world compriseth! | |
| Do but look on her hair, it is bright | |
| As Love’s star when it riseth! | |
| Do but mark, her forehead’s smoother | 15 |
| Than words that soothe her; | |
| And from her arch’d brows such a grace | |
| Sheds itself through the face, | |
| As alone there triumphs to the life | |
| All the gain, all the good, of the elements’ strife. | 20 |
| |
| Have you seen but a bright lily grow | |
| Before rude hands have touch’d it? | |
| Have you mark’d but the fall of the snow | |
| Before the soil hath smutch’d it? | |
| Have you felt the wool of beaver, | 25 |
| Or swan’s down ever? | |
| Or have smelt o’ the bud o’ the brier, | |
| Or the nard in the fire? | |
| Or have tasted the bag of the bee? | |
| O so white, O so soft, O so sweet is she! | 30 |
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