Methought my ladye rested by a stream Which rippled through the verdure of a dell. And on her eyes and mouth mad kisses pressed. I fell, and fell, through leagues of scorching space, And always saw his lips upon her face. Let him be brave, and bravely let him dare Whate'er betide, and feel no coward fright. To hearts that best know Love, his dark is fair, His sorrow gladness, and his wrong is right.
Love is the source.
My ladye's eyes are wishing wells, But not one sign my fate foretells, While my poor heart with love is burning. My ladye's eyes are wishing wells, Wherein I gaze with silent yearning. She seems like moonlight on a waveless sea. And like the delicate fragrance, which exhales, When Day's warm garments brush the dewy vales. The moon flower, grown from a slip so slender, Has burst in a star bloom, full and white.