University of Virginia Library


7

TO MY WORTHY FRIEND MR. MICHAELL DRAYTON upon these his Poems.

SONNET.

What lofty Trophyes of eternall Fame,
England may vaunt thou do'st erect to her,
Yet forced to confesse, (yea blush for shame,)
That she no Honour doth on thee confer.
How it would become her, would she learne to knowe
Once to requite thy Heaven-borne Art and Zeale,
Or at the least her selfe but thankfull showe
Her ancient Glories that do'st still reveale:
Sing thou of Love, thy straines (like powerfull Charmes)
Enrage the bosome with an amorous fire,
And when againe thou lik'st to sing of Armes
The Coward thou with Courage do'st inspire:
But when thou com'st to touch our Sinfull Times,
Then Heaven far more then Earth speakes in thy Rimes.
John Reynolds.