Classic Poem

Swan which so sweetly sings
By Aska's bankes, and pitifully plains,
That old Meander never heard such straines,
Eternall fame, thou to thy country brings:
And now our Calidon
Is by thy songs made a new Helicon;
Her mountaines, woods, and springs,
While mountaines, woods, springs be, shall sound thy praise;
And though fierce Boreas oft make pale her bayes,
And kill those mirtills with enraged breath,
Which should thy brows enwreath,
Her flouds have pearles, seas amber do send forth,
Her heaven hath golden stars to crown thy worth.