1.
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
Unto her beauty;
And enamoured, 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, whither she would ride. :‖
2.
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
Than words that soothe her!
And from her arched 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, of the elements’ strife. :‖
3.
Have you seen but a bright lily grow,
Before rude hands have touched it?
Have you marked but the fall o’ the snow
Before the soil hath smutched it?
Have you felt the wool o’ the beaver?
Or swan’s down ever?
Or have smelt o’ the bud o’ the briar?
Or the nard in the fire?
Or have tasted the bag o’ the bee?
‖: Oh so white! Oh so soft!
Oh so sweet, so sweet, so sweet is she! :‖