| |
|
THe glorious
image of the makers beautie,
My souerayne faynt, the
Idoll of my thought,
dare not henceforth aboue the
bounds of dewtie,
t'accuse of pride, or rashly blame
for ought.
For being as she is diuinely wrought,
and of the brood of Angels heuenly borne:
and with
the crew of blessed Saynts vpbrought,
each of which
did her with theyr guifts adorne;
The bud of ioy,
the blossome of the morne,
the beame of light, whom
mortal eyes admyre:
what reason is it then but she
should scorne,
base things that to her loue too bold
aspire?
Such heauenly formes ought rather worshipt
be,
then dare be lou'd by men of meane degree.
|
|
|
