Classic Poem

L ETT Greece haue tales of thundring Ioves
That hurle three-forked fire;
Or mixing with vnlawfull Loues
To brutish Shapes retyre;
Here is one, That gaines alone
Euerie hart, that is not stone,
One, whose art, & only Dart
Is a Sweet & Louing hart.

2.

Madam's whose Beauties are your books
And bloods haue made you bold,
With vernall & Autumnall Looks
Come forth & him behold
But prepare to meet despaire
And veiwe a king as chast as faire.
Whose only blisse Enthroned is
En nostre-Dame de Medices.

3.

Our foes admire w th out all noyse
How he preservs our peace
And westerne world cann contrepoyse
Make wealth & arts encrease,
With Forts of wood, on walls of flood
Maynteyning all true British blood:
While his Soule, do'es guide the whole
Religion of the Northerne Pole.

4.

You Saincts & Martyrs all enshrind
In Blisse Long tyme agoe
Looke doune on temples now refin'd
That beare your names below
This is hee, ordaind to bee
One day of your high degree
But we pray, full many a day
His Canonizing yet may stay.