Drink to me Only With Thine Eyes
Romantic verses by Ben Jonson
Home Page    A Celebration of Charys I (His Excuse For Loving)    II (How He Saw Her)   III (What He Suffered)        V (His Discourse With Cupid)    VI (Claiming a Second Kiss By Desert)    VII (On Begging Another)    VIII (Urging Her of a Promise)   IX Her Man Described By Her Own Dictamen    X (Another Lady's Exception, present at the Hearing)   An Elegy (i)    An Elegy (ii)    A Nymph's Passion        Clerimont's Song    Exerpt: The Poetaster    Song to Celia   The Hour Glass    To Celia    Why I Write Not of Love   

 

Her Triumph

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 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 with 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.

Have you seen but a bright lily grow,
Before rude hands have touch'd it ?
Have you mark'd but the fall o' the snow,
Before the soil hath smutched it ?
Have you felt the wool of bever,
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 of the bee ?
O so white ! O so soft ! O so sweet is she !.
 

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