Iv

Of her excellency both in singing and instruments

Not that thy hand is soft, is sweet, is white, Thy lips sweet roses, breast sweet lily is, That love esteems these three the chiefest bliss Which nature ever made for lips' delight; But when these three to show their heavenly might Such wonders do, devotion then for this Commandeth us with humble zeal to kiss Such things as work miracles in our sight. A lute of senseless wood, by nature dumb, Touched by thy hand doth speak divinely well; And from thy lips and breast sweet tunes do come To my dead heart, the which new life do give. Of greater wonders heard we never tell Than for the dumb to speak, the dead to live.