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Home  »  The Oxford Book of English Verse  »  233. Wooing Song

Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.

Giles Fletcher. 158?–1623

233. Wooing Song

LOVE is the blossom where there blows 
Every thing that lives or grows: 
Love doth make the Heav’ns to move, 
And the Sun doth burn in love: 
Love the strong and weak doth yoke,         5
And makes the ivy climb the oak, 
Under whose shadows lions wild, 
Soften’d by love, grow tame and mild: 
Love no med’cine can appease, 
He burns the fishes in the seas:  10
Not all the skill his wounds can stench, 
Not all the sea his fire can quench. 
Love did make the bloody spear 
Once a leavy coat to wear, 
While in his leaves there shrouded lay  15
Sweet birds, for love that sing and play 
And of all love’s joyful flame 
I the bud and blossom am. 
    Only bend thy knee to me, 
    Thy wooing shall thy winning be!  20
 
See, see the flowers that below 
Now as fresh as morning blow; 
And of all the virgin rose 
That as bright Aurora shows; 
How they all unleavèd die,  25
Losing their virginity! 
Like unto a summer shade, 
But now born, and now they fade. 
Every thing doth pass away; 
There is danger in delay:  30
Come, come, gather then the rose, 
Gather it, or it you lose! 
All the sand of Tagus’ shore 
Into my bosom casts his ore: 
All the valleys’ swimming corn  35
To my house is yearly borne: 
Every grape of every vine 
Is gladly bruised to make me wine: 
While ten thousand kings, as proud, 
To carry up my train have bow’d,  40
And a world of ladies send me 
In my chambers to attend me: 
All the stars in Heav’n that shine, 
And ten thousand more, are mine: 
    Only bend thy knee to me,  45
    Thy wooing shall thy winning be!