Classic Poem

The proudest Planet in his highest Spheare,
Saturne inthronist in thy frowning browes:
Next aufull Ioue thy maiestie doth beare:
And vnto dreadfull Mars, thy courage bowes,
Drawne from thy noble grandfathers of might:
Among'st the laurell crowned Poetes sweete,
And sweet Musitions take the place by right:
For Phoebus with thy graces thought it meete:
Venus doth sit vpon thy lippes, and chinne:
And Hermes hath inrich't thy wittes deuine:
Phoebe with chast desiers thine hart did winne:
The Planettes thus to thee their powers resigne.
Whom Planets honour thus is any such?
My muse then can not honour her too much.