The Triumph

    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 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.

    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 soothe¹ 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' strife².

    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 beaver³

    Or swan's down ever？

    Or have smelt⁴ o' the bud o' the brier

    Or the nard in the fire？

    Or have tasted the bag of the bee？

    O so #CCCCFF O so soft O so sweet is she！