The Sirens’ Song

From the “Inner Temple Masque” STEER hither, steer your wingèd pines, All beaten mariners: Here lie undiscovered mines, A prey to passengers; Perfumes far sweeter than the best That make the phœnix urn and nest: Fear not your ships, Nor any to oppose you save our lips; But come on shore, Where no joy dies till love has gotten more. For swelling waves our panting breasts, Where never storms arise, Exchange; and be awhile our guests: For stars, gaze on our eyes. The compass, love shall hourly sing; And, as he goes about the ring, We will not miss To tell each point he nameth with a kiss.

Collection: 
English
1611
William Browne
Sub Title: 
Poems of Fancy: II. Fairies: Elves: Sprites

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