Classic Poem

I ask but right: let her that caught me late
Either love, or cause that I may never hate.
I ask too much, would she but let me love her;
Love knows with such like prayers I daily move her.
Accept him that will serve thee all his youth,
Accept him that will love with spotless truth.
If lofty titles cannot make me thine
That am descended but of knightly line
(Soon may you plough the little land I have;
I gladly grant my parents given to save),
Apollo, Bacchus and the Muses may,
And Cupid, who hath mark'd me for thy prey,
My spotless life, which but to gods gives place,
Naked simplicity, and modest grace.
I love but one, and her I love change never,
If men have faith, I'll live with thee for ever.
The years that fatal destiny shall give
I'll live with thee, and die, or thou shalt grieve.
Be thou the happy subject of my books,
That I may write things worthy thy fair looks.
By verses horned Io got her name,
And she to whom in shape of swan Jove came,
And she that on a feign'd bull swam to land,
Griping his false horns with her virgin hand.
So likewise we will through the world be rung,
And with my name shall thine be always sung.