BEN JONSON
I'll tell no more, and yet I love,
And he loves me. Yet no One unbecoming thought doth move
From either heart, I know;
But so exempt from blame As it would be to each a fame, If love, or fear, would let me tell his name
��799 The Triumph
SEE the Chariot at hand here of Love, Wherein my Lady ridcth' 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, Thorough swoids, thorough 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 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.
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