Classic Poem

To the right reuerend father in God, Doctor Abbot Bishop of London.

Most graue, indicious, learnd and reuerend priest,
Whose place, whose grace, whose glory, and whose all
Are such as we must hemme within the list
Of those whome wee account most principall
There was a time when I (vnworthy I)
Was knowne to thee: when thou such vse didst make
(For mine aduantage) of my quality,
As loue is bound t' abound (thus) for thy sake
The serpents wisedome, doue like innocence,
Thy head and heart doth harbour, so that thou
With grace dost beare high Fortunes eminence;
Which for thy woorkes, she doth on the bestow:
Pardon (great prelate) sith I thus presume
To sence perfection with imperfect fume.