Classic Poem

Whiles that this Aire I breath to coole my Heart,
My Hart's inflamed so with Loues desire
That Aire to Fire it doth thereby conuert:
So liues my Hart in Hel, or quenchlesse fire!
Then, canst thon Goddesse full of outward grace,
(In whom I hope, sith thee I loue and serue)
Still feed these flames with Beames sent from thy face
And martyr him thou shouldst from paines preserue:
Then may I say, by kind th'art glorious made,
But by vnkindnesse thou thy selfe dost mar:
Who, then thy selfe doth loue thee better far:
And yet thou lov'st thy self too well for me
Sith so thou lou'st, because I so loue thee.