 | The Poems and Sonnets of Henry Constable |  |
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TO THE LADY ARBELLA.
Only hope of oure age! that vertues dead
By youre sweet breath should be reviv'd againe;
Learning, discourag'd longe by rude disdaine,
By youre white hands is only cherished.
By youre sweet breath should be reviv'd againe;
Learning, discourag'd longe by rude disdaine,
By youre white hands is only cherished.
Thus others' worth by yow is honoured;
But whoe shall honoure youres; poore wits! in vayne
We seeke to paye the debts which you pertayne,
Till from youre selfe some wealth be borrowed.
But whoe shall honoure youres; poore wits! in vayne
We seeke to paye the debts which you pertayne,
Till from youre selfe some wealth be borrowed.
Lend some youre tongues, that every nation may
In his owne heare youre vertuous prayses blaz'd;
Lend them youre wit, youre judgment, memorye,
Least they themselves should not knowe what to say;
And, that thow mayst be lov'd as much as prays'd,
My hearte thow mayst lend them, which I gave thee.
In his owne heare youre vertuous prayses blaz'd;
Lend them youre wit, youre judgment, memorye,
Least they themselves should not knowe what to say;
And, that thow mayst be lov'd as much as prays'd,
My hearte thow mayst lend them, which I gave thee.
| The Poems and Sonnets of Henry Constable | |