Classic Poem

All you that have indulgent Parents been
And have your Children in perfection seen
Of youth and beuty; lend one Teare to mee
And trust mee I will doe as much for thee
Unlesse my own griefe do exhaust my store
Then will I sigh till I suspire noe more
Twice hath the earth Thrown Cloris Mantle by
Imbroidered or'e with Curious Tapestry
And twice hath seem'd to mourn unto our sight
Like Jewes, or Chinesses in snowey white
Since shee laid down her milkey limbs on Earth
Which dying gave her virgin Soule new birth
Yet still my heart is overwhelm'd with griefe
And tears (helas) gives Sorrow, noe reliefe
Twice hath sad Philomele left of to sing
Her mortifying sonnets to the Spring
Twice at the Silvian choristers desire
Shee hath lent her Musick to compleat theire Quire
Since al devouring Death on her took seasure
And Tellys Wombe involv'd soe rich a Tresure.
Yet styl my heart is overwhelm'd with griefe
And time nor teares will give my woes reliefe
Twelve times hath Phoebe horned seemed to fight
As often fil'd them with her Brothers light
Since shee did close her sparkling Diamond eyes
Yet my sad Heart for her still pineing Dies
Through the Twelve houses the illustrious Sun
With splendentie his Annuall Jorney Run
Twice hath his firey furious horses Hurld
His blazeing Chariots to the Lower World
Shewing his luster to the wondring eyes
Of our (now soe well known) Antipodies
Since the brack of her spotles virgin story
Which now her soule doth end in endles Glory.
Yet my aflicted sad forsaken soule
For her in tears and Ashes still doth Rowle
O could a ffevour spot her snowey skin
Whose Virgin soule was scarcely soyld with sin
Aye mee it did, soe have I sometimes seene
Faire Maydens sit incircled on a green
White lillies spread when they were making Poses
Upon them scatter leaves of Damask Roses
E'ne soe the spots upon her faire skin shows
Like Lilly leaves sprinkled with Damask Rose
Or as a stately Hert to Death pursued
By Ravening Hounds his eyes with tears bedewed
An Arrow sticking in his trembling breast
Her lost condition to the life exprest
Soe trips hee or'e the Lawns on trodden snow
And from his side his guiltles blood doth flow
[Soe did the spots upon her faire skin shew
Like drops of blood upon unsullied snow]
But what a heart had I, when I did stand
Holding her forehead with my Trembling hand
My Heart to Heaven with her bright Spirit flyes
Whilst shee (ah mee) closed up her lovely eyes
Her soule being seated in her place of birth
I turnd a Niobe as shee turn'd earth.