 | Zepheria |  |
Canzon. 2.
[Though be thou limn'd in these discoloured lines]
Though be thou limn'd in these discoloured lines,Delicious model of my spirits portraict,
Though be thou sable pencild, these deseygnes
Shadow not beautie but a sorrowes extract.
When I empris'd though in my loues affections,
The siluer lustre of thy brow to vnmaske
Though hath my Muse hyberboliz'd traiections:
Yet stands it aye deficient to such taske.
My slubbring pencil casts too grosse a matter,
Thy beauties pure deuinitie to blaze:
For when my smoothed tongue hath sought to flatter,
Thy worth hath deartht his words for thy due praise:
Then though my pencil glaunce here on thine eyes,
Sweet thinke thy fayre it doth but portionize.
| Zepheria | |