Classic Poem

Maximus, great by name and great by kind,
Who gracest thy birth by thy noble minde,
For when that thou into the world didst come,
As if they meant to give thy birthright roome,
Three hundred Fabii in one day did fall,
That fatall day tooke not away them all.
Perhaps thou wouldst know from whom this letter sent.
Or else to know whose I am thou art bent.
What shall I doe? When thou my name hast red,
I feare thou wilt unwillingly proceede:
Yet if that any chance these lines to see,
I dare confesse that I writ them to thee,
And that my purpose therein was that I
Might so bewayle my owne sad misery,
And that I writ them to thee, I dare confesse,
To signifie to thee my own distresse,
Who though I doe confesse I worthy am
Of more punishment, I cannot more sustaine,
Dangers and enemies on each side come on me,
As if with my Country, safety were took from me;
Who that their wounded enemies may fall,
Doe poyson their arrows with the vipers gall.
The horseman arm'd with these the walls beholds,
Like a Wolfe that walks round about sheepefolds,
When with a string of horses guts compact
He bends his bow, whose string is seldom slackt.
A showre of Arrowes from their Bows doth flye
And the gate can scarce keepe out the enemie.
The countries barren without leafe or tree,
And Winters joyned unto winters be.
Five winters I have beene in this estate,
Enduring cold, and striving with my fate.
My griefe is in continuall teares exprest,
And deadly dulnesse doth possesse my brest,
Happie was Niobe, for although that she,
The death of her children did behold and see,
Yet being chang'd into a stone thereby
She grew insensible of her misery.
Happy are you, who weeping for your brother
The Popler with his barke your face did cover,
But I cannot be chang'd to any tree,
And I doe wish in vaine a stone to be!