Classic Poem

Let none mislike a man for his mishap,
But thinke how chance doth check the greatest might:
A ENEAS he, V LISSES worthy wight,
By lande and seas, did danger great entrap,
None for deserts are lulde in Fortunes lap.
Chaunce roules vs rounde, and reaks ne wrong nor right,
Ne lewde is he on whom lewde luck doth light.
Was not I OBE iust, though sokte in sorrowes sap.
They erre that deeme all goes as men deserue,
At length A ENEAS ranne his weary race:
V LISSES eke and I OBE , God did preserue,
So I poore wretch whom Fortune doth disgrace,
Do hope thylke God will guyde my crased barge,
Which beates the seas, whilst none of her takes charge.