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, enamoured, 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 arched 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.