And when it shines amongst the fairest fair,
My lady reigns beyond compare,
And all around her bend beneath her sway.
Happy, thrice happy, is that favoured one,
Who sees no face but hers alone,
And passion’s nectar eager sips,
Who listens to the music of her tongue,
More sweet than lay by seraphs sung,
In words that fall like jewels from her lips.
But happier still were I if she benign