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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.


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.



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.


My Choice
Nature did her so much right

As she scorns the help of art.
In as many virtues dight

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


Wit she hatlı, 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


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.




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

And will find out the way.


You may esteem him

A child for his might;
Or you may deem him

A coward from his flight;
But she whom Love doth honour

Be conceal'd from the day-
Set a thousand guards upon her,
Love will find out the way.


Over the Mountains

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 Phænix 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.

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There is no striving

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

But if once the message greet him

That his True Love doth stay,
If Death should come and meet him,
Love will find out the way!

56 Early 17th Cent.




Ye blushing virgins happy are

In the chaste nunnery of her breastsFor he'd profane so chaste a fair,

Whoe'er should call them Cupid's nests.

Transplanted thus how bright ye grow!

How rich a perfume do ye yield! In some close garden cowslips so

Are sweeter than i'th' open field.


In those white cloisters live secure

From the rude blasts of wanton breath!Each hour more innocent and pure,

Till you shall wither into death.


Then that which living gave you room,

Your glorious sepulchre shall be. There wants no marble for a tomb Whose breast hath marble been to me.

16 1634.

William Habington.

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