Thomas Watson (1555–1592)

IF Jove himself be subject unto Love

And range the woods to find a mortal prey;

If Neptune from the seas himself remove,

And seek on sands with earthly wights to play:

Then may I love my peerless choice by right,

Who far excels each other mortal wight.

If Pluto could by love be drawn from hell,

To yield himself a silly virgin’s thrall;

If Phœbus could vouchsafe on earth to dwell,

To win a rustic maid unto his call:

Then how much more should I adore the sight

Of her, in whom the heavens themselves delight?

If country Pan might follow nymphs in chase,

And yet through love remain devoid of blame;

If Satyrs were excused for seeking grace

To joy the fruits of any mortal dame:

Then, why should I once doubt to love her still

On whom ne Gods nor men can gaze their fill?