He that looks still on your eyes,

Though the winter have begun
To benumb our arteries,

Shall not want the summer's sun.

He that still may see your cheeks,
Where all rareness still reposes,
Is a fool if e'er he seeks

Other lilies, other roses.

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16

He to whom your soft lip yields,

And perceives your breath in kissing,

All the odours of the fields

Never, never shall be missing.

He that question would anew
What fair Eden was of old,

Let him rightly study you,
And a brief of that behold.

1616? 1815.

William Browne, of Tavistock.

MY CHOICE

SHALL I tell you whom I love?
Hearken then awhile to me;

And if such a woman move
As I now shall versify,
Be assured 't is she or none,
That I love, and love alone.

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24

1616.

Nature did her so much right
As she scorns the help of art.
In as many virtues dight

As e'er yet embraced a heart.
So much good so truly tried,
Some for less were deified.

Wit she hath, without desire

To make known how much she hath; And her anger flames no higher

Than may fitly sweeten wrath.

Full of pity as may be,

Though perhaps not so to me.

Reason masters every sense,
And her virtues grace her birth;
Lovely as all excellence,

Modest in her most of mirth.
Likelihood enough to prove
Only worth could kindle love.

Such she is; and if you know
Such a one as I have sung;
Be she brown, or fair, or so
That she be but somewhat young;

Be assured 't is she, or none,
That I love, and love alone.

William Browne, of Tavistock.

12

18

24

30

OVER THE MOUNTAINS

OVER the mountains

And over the waves,
Under the fountains

And under the graves;
Under floods that are deepest,
Which Neptune obey,

Over rocks that are steepest,
Love will find out the way.

When there is no place

For the glow-worm to lie,
Where there is no space

For receipt of a fly;

When the midge dares not venture
Lest herself fast she lay;
If Love come, he will enter

8

And will find out the way.

16

You may esteem him

A child for his might;

Or you may deem him

A coward from his flight;
But if she whom Love doth honour
Be conceal'd from the day-
Set a thousand guards upon her,
Love will find out the way.

Some think to lose him
By having him confined;
And some do suppose him,

Poor thing! to be blind;

But if ne'er so close ye wall him,
Do the best that ye may,
Blind Love, if so ye call him,

He will find out his way.

You may train the eagle
To stoop to your fist;

Or you may inveigle

The Phoenix of the east;

The lioness, you may move her
To give over her prey;
But you'll ne'er stop a lover-
He will find out his way.

If the earth it should part him,
He would gallop it o'er;
If the seas should o'erthwart him,
He would swim to the shore;
Should his Love become a swallow,
Through the air to stray,

Love will lend wings to follow,
And will find out the way.

There is no striving

To cross his intent; There is no contriving His plots to prevent;