Classic Poem

And, as in well-growne woods, on trees, cold spinie Grashoppers
Sit chirping, and send voices out, that scarce can pierce our eares,
For softnesse, and their weake faint sounds: So (talking on the towre)
These Seniors of the people sate: who when they saw the powre
Of beautie, in the Queene ascend; even those cold-spirited Peeres,
Those wise, and almost witherd men, found this heate in their yeares;
That they were forc't (though whispering) to say; what man can blame
The Greekes, and Troians to endure, for so admir'd a Dame,
So many miseries, and so long? In her sweet countenance shine
Lookes like the Goddesses: and yet (though never so divine)
Before we boast, unjustly still, of her enforced prise,
And justly suffer for her sake, with all our progenies,
Labor, and ruine; let her go: the profit of our land
Must passe the beautie. Thus, though these could beare so fit a hand
On their affections; yet when all their gravest powers were usde;
They could not chuse but welcome her; and rather they accusde
The Gods, then beautie; for thus spake the most fam'd king of Troy;
Come, loved daughter, sit by me, and take the worthy joy
Of thy first husbands sight; old friends, and Princes neare allyed:
And name me some of these brave Greekes, so manly beautified.
Come: do not thinke, I lay the warres, endur'd by us, on thee;
The Gods have sent them, and the teares, in which they swumme to me.