 | Sinetes (1597) |  |
In prayse of the Booke.
Faire Philomele her rauishment hath song,
But Parry rauisheth with musefull tunes.
No soner hath his praise with florish sprong,
With Daphins bosome stûft with sweete perfumes,
But forth his nectar-feasting poezie bloomes,
And eke the Delion harper doth lament,
In Passions poore Sinetes discontent.
But Parry rauisheth with musefull tunes.
No soner hath his praise with florish sprong,
With Daphins bosome stûft with sweete perfumes,
But forth his nectar-feasting poezie bloomes,
And eke the Delion harper doth lament,
In Passions poore Sinetes discontent.
Amored shepheards wonder at thy wit,
And to thy piping lend their listning eare,
And in thy praise the mûses frame a writ,
Therefore I thought my rûder lines to teare,
And skillesse riming bid my hand forbeare:
But little candles giue their glimering light,
As well as torches in the brighter sight.
And to thy piping lend their listning eare,
And in thy praise the mûses frame a writ,
Therefore I thought my rûder lines to teare,
And skillesse riming bid my hand forbeare:
But little candles giue their glimering light,
As well as torches in the brighter sight.
W. R. Gent.
| Sinetes (1597) | |