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