XXIX.
[Such is the Saint, whom I on earth adore]
The Authour in this Sonnet in a large maner setteth forth the
surpassinge worthines of his Ladie, reporting her beawtie
and forme to be so singuler, that neither Appelles can perfectly
drawe her portraicte; nor Praxiteles trewly frame her
image and likenes in any kinde of mettall. And the like
vnablenes he awardeth vnto Uirgill and Homer the two Paragons
of Poetrye, if they should but once endeuour to praise
her. And the like insufficiencie he sayeth would be found in
Tullie him selfe, if he should endeuour to commend her.
And thē finally he excuseth his owne bould hardines shewed
in praysing her, vpon the forcible extremitie, which he abideth
in Loue, and the earnest desire, which he hath to please.
Such
is the Saint, whom I on earth adore,
As neuer age shall know when this is past,
Nor euer yet hath like byn seene before:
Apelles yf he liu'd would stand agast
Here he aludeth vnto the pourtraict of Venus which Apelles drew: as Ouid doth lib. 3. de art. aman. Si Venerem Cotis nunquā pinxisset Apelles.
With coulours to set downe her comely face,
Who farre excells though Venus were in place.
Praxiteles might likewise stand in doute
In metall to expresse her forme arighte,
Whose praise for shape is blowne the world throughout:
Nor Virgill could so good a verse indite
As onely would suffise to tell her name;
Nor Homer with his Muse expresse her fame;
Tully, whose speach was boulde in eu'ry cause,
Yf he were here to praise the Saint I serue,
The number of her giftes would make him pause,
And feare to speake how well she doth deserue.
Why then am I thus bould that haue no skill?
Enforst by Loue I shew my zealous will.
