 | The Works of Michael Drayton |  |
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[Rouland, when first I red thy stately rymes]
Rouland, when first I red thy stately rymes,In Sheepheards weedes, when yet thou liv'dst unknowne,
Not seene in publique in those former tymes,
But unto Ankor tund'st thy Pype alone,
I then beheld thy chaste Ideas fame,
Put on the wings of thine immortall stile,
Whose rarest vertues and deserved name,
Thy Muse renown's throughout this glorious Ile,
Thy lines, like to the Lawrells pleasant shade,
In after ages shall adorne her Herse,
Nor never can her beauties glory fade,
Deckt in the collours of thy happy verse,
Thy fiery spirit mounts up unto the skye,
And what thou writ'st, lives to Eternitye.
E. P.
| The Works of Michael Drayton | |