Classic Poem

Itt was the sylente tyme
When Phaebus fell to reste
And creatures all that lyve on earth
Were shrowded in theyr neste.
When as the slumber sweete
Each wakinge Eye dyd cease,
Save onely myne that seldome fyndes
The waye to quiett ease.
Whose restles mynde to passe
The werye tyme awaye,
Desyred then to reade the Booke
How Pryam dyd decaye.
And after what befell
The poore remayne of Troye
When as the Greekyshe guyle their towne
And kingedome did destroye.
Wherein me thought I founde
The Troyan Duke wann fame;
Tyll faythfull Didos open wronge
Dyd blott his browe with blame.
And to my selfe I sayede
Æneas to to fell:
How couldst thow leave the curteous Queene?
That lovede the so well.
But in this musynge moode
Before me did appeare,
A woman cladd in royall Roobes
With sadd and sober cheare.
A sworde in hand Shee bare,
And ware a Dyademe,
And from her balfull wounded breste
The gusshinge blood dyd streame.
Then unto me shee sayde
This syght which thow haste seene
Is her of whom thow late dydst reade
That was off Carthage Queene.
Theis lymmes and shape I bare
But not that shameles mynde
Which yow in Idle tales doo reade
And fayned fables fynde.
For that same wandringe Prynce
Nor yett his Troyan hoste
Dyd never with his fleete arryve
Uppon our Lybeane coaste.
I prayde not hys reporte
of Iliums latter fyre
whylst that his manly grace and wordes
dyd kyndle my desyer
With hyme I dyd not feast;
Nor sytt in secrett cave
Ne Evar to hys lustful wyle
my selfe and honor gave.
Twas not for frantycke Love
Nor for his sake that I
With stroke of myne owne feareles fiste
Dyd doo my selfe to dye.
But only to avoyde
Kinge Jarbas lustfull rage,
I dyd my spottles brest unto
The murtheringe steele engage.
And that reporte to have
I doo no whytt dysdaine
Synce by my death, I did my lyfe
And honor save from stayne.
And yett before I dyd
Resigne my latter breathe
I builte Carthagoes stately walles
And vengde Sicheus deathe.
Then Maro, what dispyte
Hath made thy penn to ryfe
So envyousely to touch with shame
My chaste and sober lyffe.
Lett men henceforth beleve
That Storyes trew doo wryte
And not geve Credytt to those dreames
That Poetts penns indyte
Therefore that wretchede man
Deserves a vipars name
That wold a sylly woman foile,
And wrongefully defame.
But as theis wordes Shee spake
In greate disdayne and spyght
Her presence which I then behelde
Dyd vanish from my sighte.
Whearby I gatherd this
For Elder tymes disprayse
That worthy Ladyes then weare wrongd
As well as now adyes.
And therewithall as one
twixt greyfe and dreade attainte,
In hast I toke my Penn to wryte
The dolefull Queenes complainte.