Why should my Pen presume to write his praise, And hee in perfect mould of Vertue framde? Why should my Muse sing of his happie daies, And he the marke, at which Dame Nature aimed? Why rather should I not such vertues show, That such pure golde from drosse each man may know? But cease my Muse, why dost thou take in hand so great a Taske: Which to perform a greater wit, than Mercuries would aske? For iudgement Iove, for Learning deepe, he still Apollo seemde: For floent Tongue, for eloquence, men Mercury him deemde. For curtesie suppose him Guy, or Guyons somewhat lesse: His life and manners though I would, I cannot halfe expresse. Nor Mouth, nor Minde, nor Muse can halfe declare, His Life, his Love, his Laude, so excellent they were. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES FROM A PLUTOCRATIC POETASTER TO A DITCH-DIGGER by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS SAND FLESH AND SKY by CLARENCE MAJOR THE RHINOCEROS by HILAIRE BELLOC A PECK OF GOLD by ROBERT FROST EXPLICATION OF AN IMAGINARY TEXT by JAMES GALVIN FAITH by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |