Classic Poem

When all our other Starres set (in their skies)
To Vertue, and all honor of her kind;
That you (rare Lady) should so clearely rise,
Makes all the vertuous glorifie your mind.
And let true Reason, and Religion trie,
If it be Fancie, not iudiciall Right,
In you t'oppose the times Apostasie,
To take the soules part, and her sauing Light,
While others blinde and burie both in Sense;
When, tis the onely end, for which all liue.
And, could those soules, in whom it dies, dispense
As much with their Religion; they would giue
That as small grace. Then shun their course, faire Starre;
And still keepe your way, pure, and circular.