Classic Poem

Yea that accursed deede before insealed,
Is argument of thy first constancie:
Which if thou hadst to me before reuealed
I had not pleaded in such feruencie,
Yet this delightes, and makes me triumph much
That myne hart in her body lyes imprisoned:
For (mongst all bay-crown'd conquerors) no such
Can make the slauish captiue bost him conquered
Except Parthenophe, whose fiery gleames
Like Ioues swift lightning ragen, which rockes pearseth,
Heating them in-lye with his soddeyne beames
And secret golden mynes with melting searseth,
Eft-soones with cannon, his drad rage rehearseth
Yet nought seemes scortched, in apparant sight:
So first she secret burnt, then did affright.