 | Miscelanea |  |
Simon Grahame to the Authour.
Goe famous thou, with euer flying fame,That mak'st thy flight on Vertues wings to sore,
In worlds of hearts goe labyrinth thy name,
That wonders selfe may wondrous thee adore.
Though th' authours selfe triumph in heauenly glore,
Thou sacred worke giu'st mortall life againe;
And so thy worth hath made her euermore
In heauen and earth for euer to remaine.
Hir pondrous speech, hir passion and hir paine,
Hir pleasing stile shall be admir'd ilke where.
The fruitfull flowing of hir loftie braine
Doth now bewray a mothers matchlesse care,
While she liues crown'd amongst the high diuines,
Thou on hir sonne celestiall sunne downe shines.
| Miscelanea | |