Classic Poem

Because thow wast the daughter of a kyng,
whose beautye, dyd all natures workes exceede,
and wysedome, wonder to the world dyd breede,
a Muse myght rayse yt self on Cupids wynge.
But syth theys graces which from Nature sprynge,
were grac'd by those which from grace dyd proceede,
and glory haith deserv'd; my muse doth neede
an Angells feathers, when thy prayse I synge.
For all in thee, became Angelycall:
an Angells face, had Angells puritye:
and thou an Angells tongue did'st speake withall.
Loe why thy sowle sett free by Martyrdome,
was croun'd by God in Angells company,
and Angells handes thy body dyd intombe.