Classic Poem

To Deloney.

Like to the fatall ominous Rauen which tolls,
The sicke mans dirge within his hollow beake,
So euery paper-clothed post in Poules,
To thee ( Deloney ) mourningly doth speake,
And tells thee of thy hempen tragedie.
The wracks of hungry Tyburne naught to thine,
Such massacre's made of thy balladry,
And thou in griefe, for woe thereof maist pine:
At euery streets end Fuscus rimes are read,
And thine in silence must be buried.