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TO ST. KATHARYNE.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


xciv

TO ST. KATHARYNE.

Because thou wast the daughter of a kyng,
Whose beautye dyd all nature's workes exceede,
And wyssdome wonder to the world dyd breede,
A muse myght rayse yt self on Cupid's wynge.
But syth theys graces which from nature sprynge
Were grac'd by those which from grace dyd proceede,
And glory haith deserv'd, my Muse doth neede
An angell's feathers when thy prayse I synge;
For all in thee became angelycall;
An angell's face had angells' puritye;
And thou an angell's tongue did'st speake withall.
Loe why thy sowle, sett free by martyrdome,
Was croun'd by God in angells' company,
And angells' handes thy body dyd intombe.