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LET others sing of Knights and Palladines,
In aged accents and untimely words;
Which well the reach of their high wits records :
But I must sing of thee, and those fair eyes
Authentic shall my verse in time to come,
When yet th' unborn shall say, lo, where she lies,
Whose beauty made him speak, that else was dumb!
These are the arcs, the trophies I erect,
That fortify thy name against old age;
And these thy sacred virtues must protect
Against the dark, and Time's consuming rage.
Though th' error of my youth in them appear,
Suffice, they shew I liv'd, and lov'd thee dear.
WHY should your fair eyes with such sovereign grace
That never learn'd what constellations are,
Only compell'd on this poor good to boast,
Heavens are not kind to them that know them most.
WHILST thus my pen strives to eternize thee,
Age rules my lines with wrinkles in my face,
Is modell'd out the world of my disgrace:
Proudly thou scorn'st my world-out-wearing rhymes,
And though, in youth, my youth untimely perish,
To keep thee from oblivion and the grave,
In pride of wit, when high desire of fame
Where, the full praise, I freely must confess,
As though to me it nothing did belong :
The praise I strive, is to eternize you.
CLEAR Anker, on whose silver-sanded shore,
O blessed brook, whose milk-white swans adore
Where sweet myrrh-breathing Zephyr in the spring
Where nightingales in Arden sit and sing
Say thus, fair brook, when thou shalt see thy queen,—
And here to thee he sacrific'd his tears: