Classic Poem

To the right noble Lord, worthy of all loue and honor, the Lord Vicount Lisle

Deere Lord, while I doe muse to finde out words
To suite thy worth, I finde the labour great;
For still so much true Worthines affoords
That fullest words are nothing so compleate
Faine would I do thee honor if I could,
For many deere respects; but ah, alas!
Small is the honor rimes both few and cold
Can giue thy vertues which all praise doth passe
Learning and armes, together with the Muse
(Which trinity of powers Artes heaun selt forth)
Thy brother did into thy brest infuse
As to the heire of all his matchlesse worth:
Then sith Sr Phillip still in thee abides
There's more in thee then all the world besides.