Wit's Pilgrimage - Part 1
Ore those faire Alpes, thy Brests, (that naked lie
Towards the blushing heau'n of thy bright face)
When as I trauell with my wandring Eye,
The Snowes twixt Them, and That , do let her pace:
For passing through the Valley of thy Neck
Mine Eie there sticks, as drowned in those snowes
Yet, thy kinde heate the same doth countercheck:
So, to thy Chins faire Cliffe, on Milk, she flowes!
Where being come she breathes, and looketh back,
Dazled to see those passed- Beauties Deepes!
So, there she rests, as on the rock of Wrack:
With sense thereof twixt Feare, and Hope she weepes:
And, dares not higher looke, sith thine Eyes Beames
Draw clouds thereto and turne those clouds to Streames.
Towards the blushing heau'n of thy bright face)
When as I trauell with my wandring Eye,
The Snowes twixt Them, and That , do let her pace:
For passing through the Valley of thy Neck
Mine Eie there sticks, as drowned in those snowes
Yet, thy kinde heate the same doth countercheck:
So, to thy Chins faire Cliffe, on Milk, she flowes!
Where being come she breathes, and looketh back,
Dazled to see those passed- Beauties Deepes!
So, there she rests, as on the rock of Wrack:
With sense thereof twixt Feare, and Hope she weepes:
And, dares not higher looke, sith thine Eyes Beames
Draw clouds thereto and turne those clouds to Streames.
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