Classic Poem

To Alexander Neville

of the blessed State of him
that feels not the force of Cupid's flames.

As oft as I remember with myself
The fancies fond that flame by foolish love,
And mark the Furies fell, the blinded elf
And Venus, she that reigns so sore above,
As oft as I do see the woeful state
Of lovers all, and eke their misery,
The one's desiring mind, the other's hate,
Troth with the one, with the other treachery,
So oft say I, that blessed is the wight,
Yea, Neville, blessed, and double blessed again,
That can by reason rule his mind aright,
And take such foolish fading toys for vain.