Ye Gods! How good on her to gaze,
All-gracious, fayre and sweet of mien;
Such virtues be in her y-seen
All men stand ready with their praise.
Who then could weary of her ways?
Her beautie flowereth ever green;
Ye Gods! How good on her to gaze,
All-gracious, fayre and sweet of mien.
This side or yon of Ocean’s maze
Nor dame nor damozel, I ween
So wholly parfaict yet hath been--
A dream, to think on her always:
Ye Gods! How good on her to gaze!...