TO MY LADYE LOVE.

Downe I sat,I sat downeWhere Flora had bestowed her graces.Greene it was,It was greene,Far passing other places;For art and nature did combineWith sights to witch the gasers eine.There I sat,I sat there,Viewing of this pride of places.Straight I saw,I saw straightThe sweetest faire of all faces:Such a face as did containe,Heaven’s shine in every raine?I did looke,Looke did I,And there I saw Apollo’s wyres:Bright they were,They were bright;With them Aurora’s head he tires;But this I wondered, how that now,That shadowed in Cassander’s bow.Still I gazde,I gazde still,Spying Luna’s milke white glasse:Commixt fine,Fine commixtWith the morning’s ruddy blase;This white and red their seating seekes,Upon Cassandraes smiling cheeks.Ronsard.

Downe I sat,I sat downeWhere Flora had bestowed her graces.Greene it was,It was greene,Far passing other places;For art and nature did combineWith sights to witch the gasers eine.

Downe I sat,

I sat downe

Where Flora had bestowed her graces.

Greene it was,

It was greene,

Far passing other places;

For art and nature did combine

With sights to witch the gasers eine.

There I sat,I sat there,Viewing of this pride of places.Straight I saw,I saw straightThe sweetest faire of all faces:Such a face as did containe,Heaven’s shine in every raine?

There I sat,

I sat there,

Viewing of this pride of places.

Straight I saw,

I saw straight

The sweetest faire of all faces:

Such a face as did containe,

Heaven’s shine in every raine?

I did looke,Looke did I,And there I saw Apollo’s wyres:Bright they were,They were bright;With them Aurora’s head he tires;But this I wondered, how that now,That shadowed in Cassander’s bow.

I did looke,

Looke did I,

And there I saw Apollo’s wyres:

Bright they were,

They were bright;

With them Aurora’s head he tires;

But this I wondered, how that now,

That shadowed in Cassander’s bow.

Still I gazde,I gazde still,Spying Luna’s milke white glasse:Commixt fine,Fine commixtWith the morning’s ruddy blase;This white and red their seating seekes,Upon Cassandraes smiling cheeks.

Still I gazde,

I gazde still,

Spying Luna’s milke white glasse:

Commixt fine,

Fine commixt

With the morning’s ruddy blase;

This white and red their seating seekes,

Upon Cassandraes smiling cheeks.

Ronsard.

Back to Index Next