Classic Poem

Lo here the end of all my worke,
behold the threed I drew
Is wrought to cloth, accomplisht now
you see this slender clew.
A peece (God wot) of little price,
scarce woorth the Readers paine:
And in mine owne conceit
a booke of barren verse and vaine
I blush to let it out at large
for Sages to peruse:
For that the common custome is,
in bookes to gape for newes
And matter of importance great,
which either may delite
By pleasure, or with sad aduise
the readers paynes requite
But this of mine so maymed is,
for lacke of learned stile
And stately stuffe, as sure I shall
the readers hope beguile,
Who doth expect some rare report
of former ancient deedes:
Or new deuice but lately wrought,
that breatheth yet and bleedes.
But truely none of both in these
my verses is to finde:
My slender ship hath kept the shore,
for feare of boystrous winde.
I bore my simple sayles but lowe,
I dreaded sodaine showers:
Which sundry times from hauty skies
the puisant ruler powers
I durst not stir amid the streame,
the chanel was too deepe:
Which made me haue the more regard
about the bankes to keepe
It is for mighty hulkes to dare
aduenture out so farre:
And barkes of biggest sise,
and such as builded be for warre
I write but of familiar stuffe,
because my stile is lowe:
I feare to wade in weighty works,
or past my reach to rowe.
Which if I should, the Reader might
as boldly blame my quil:
As now I trust he shal accept
my shew of great good wil.
Though diuers write with fuller phrase,
and farre more hawty stile:
And burnish out their golden bookes
with fine and learned file:
Yet meaner Muses must not lurke,
but each in his degree
That meaneth wel, and doth his best,
must wel regarded be
Though Nilus for his bigues beare
away the greatest name,
Whose seuenfold stream hath gaind the gulfe
of such a lasting fame:
Yet must not lesser lakes be lost,
nor had in vile account,
That serue for vse and ease of man,
though Nilus doe surmount.
Great Alexander mighty was
and dreadful in the warre:
Yet thats no cause why Rome should not
of Cæsar boast as farre
The Planets are the pride of heauen,
and cheefest lampes of light:
Yet other starres doe yelde a shew,
and helpe to cleere the night
Likewise though diuers write in verse,
and doe exceeding wel:
The remnant must not be refusde,
because they doe excell.
Ill may we misse the slender shrubs
for all the princely Pine:
No more we scorne the baser drinkes
though most we way the wine.
Which makes me hope that though
my Muse doth yelde but slender sound,
And though my culter scarcely cuts,
or breakes the marble ground:
Yet sithens that I meant with verse
to feede the Readers eyes,
And to that purpose bent my braines
these fancies to deuise
I trust he takes it wel in worth,
and beares with what he findes,
And thereunto the Reader aye
the writers trauaile bindes:
Which if he doe I haue my hire,
who happy then but I?
That wrote this worke for grateful men,
to vewe with thankfull eye.
And so I giue the congee now,
with wish that this my booke
Be such as may thy sprites delight,
that hapnest here to looke.
Ill were my fortune if in all
this treatise as it standes,
There should be nothing worth the vew
when so it comes to hand.
Roscarockes warrant shal suffise,
who likte the writing so,
As did embolden me to let
the leaues at large to goe.
If il succeede, the blame was his
who might haue kept it backe:
And frendly tolde me that my booke
his due deuise did lacke
But as it is, loe there it goes,
for euery one to vew:
The man that each ones humor pleasde,
as yet I neuer knew.
Sufficeth if the courtly sort
whose doome is deepe in deede,
Accompt it ought, with baser wits
I care not how it speede
The courtier knowes what best becomes
in euery kind of case:
His nature is, what so he doth
to decke with gallant grace.
The greatest clarkes in other artes
can hardly doe the leeke:
For learning sundry times is there
where iudgement is to seeke.