Who hath the eyes which marry state with pleasure !
Who keeps the key of Nature's chiefest treasure !
      To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only for you the heaven forgat all measure.

Who hath the lips where wit in fairness reigneth !
Who womankind at once both decks and staineth !
      To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only by you Cupid his crown maintaineth.

Who hath the feet, whose step all sweetness planteth !
Who else, for whom Fame worthy trumpets wanteth !
      To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only to you her sceptre Venus granteth.

Who hath the breast whose milk doth patience nourish !
Whose grace is such that when it chides doth cherish !
      To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only through you the tree of life doth flourish.

Who hath the hand, which without stroke subdueth !
Who long-dead beauty with increase reneweth !
      To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only at you all envy hopeless rueth.

Who hath the hair, which loosest fastest tieth !
Who makes a man live then glad when he dieth !
      To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only of you the flatterer never lieth.

Who hath the voice, which soul from senses sunders !
Whose force but yours the bolts of beauty thunders !
      To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only with you not miracles are wonders.

Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth,
Which now my breast o'ercharged to music lendeth !
      To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only in you my song begins and endeth.