Classic Poem

To you, whose dignitie strikes us with awe,
And whose far greater judgment gives us law,
Your mind being more transcendent then your state
(For while but knees to this, hearts bow to that)
These humble papers never durst come neare,
Had not your powerfull word bid them appeare;
In which such majestie, such sweetnesse dwells,
As in one Act obligeth and compells.
None can dispute commands vouchsafed by you;
What shall my feares then, and confusions do?
They must resigne, and by their just pretence
Some value set on my obedience;
For in religious dutyes, 'tis confest,
The most implicite are accepted best
If on that score your highnesse will excuse
This blushing tribute of an artlesse muse,
She may (encourag'd by your least regard,
Which first doth worth create, and then reward)
At modest distance, with improved straines,
That mercy celebrate which now she gaines
But should you that severer justice use,
Which these too prompt approaches may produce,
As the swift Doe, that hath escaped long,
Believes a vulgar shot would be a wrong;
But wounded by a prince, falls without shame,
And what in life she looseth gaines in fame:
So if a ray from you chance to be sent,
Which too consume, and not to warme, is meant
The trembling muse at least more nobly dyes,
And falls by that a truer sacrifice