Classic Poem

Praxitiles , and Myron (workmen rare)
Apelles skilde, learnde Homer (famous wight):
Were these alive, the Picture of my Faire
To carve, to cut, to paint, and thereof write,
 In marble, brasse, boord, or in bookes at large,
 They sone would faint, ore prest with so great charge.

And yet may be her beautious Countenance,
With chisell, toole, with pensell and with pen,
They rightly might have shadowed (though by chance)
Because they, in their Age were rarest Men.
 But had they come the nobler part to show,
 Their cunning then had soone tooke th'overthrow.

If my bright Sunne (renowmd per Excellence ,
Through the illustrious splendar of her gleames)
Doth dimme and darken our Intelligence,
By vertue of her more then radiant beames:
 What Hand or Thought in hand could ever take,
 A worke so endles, with good end to make?

Deare ALBA I by thee am still forbid,
By Statue, Image, Picture, or by Verse,
To shew the Vertues rare within thee hid,
As not being able least part to rehearse,
 It shall suffice (as sacred) I admire,
 Thy spotles life, thy more then chast Desire.