Of manie now that sound with hopes consort Your wisdome, bountie, and peace blessed raigne My skill is least but of the most importe Because not schoold by favors, guifts, or gaine. And that which more approves my truthfull layes To sweet my tunes, I straine not flatteries stringe But hould that temper in your Royall prayse That long I did, before you were my Kinge. Soe did I vertue for it self regard With truth unstaind, that hath the test indurd Lovinge my kinge without my kings reward And yet such Zeale, through wrong lives still obscurde But hope dyes not, dispaire it doth dispyse For constant faith draws favour from the skyes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SEA-MEW by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 19. TO AN ATHLETE DYING YOUNG by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE SOUND OF THE SEA; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW HOMAGE TO QUINTUS SEPTIMIUS FLORENTIS CHRISTIANUS: TROY by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS NO MARVEL IS IT by BERNART DE VENTADORN THE HEART'S PROOF by JAMES BUCKHAM THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: AT HOME AFTER THE BALL by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |