 | Commendatory poem to Nennio |  |
[My artlesse Muse (if any muse at all)]
My artlesse Muse (if any muse at all)Couched in rude, in base, in home attire,
Not fitting thoughts, or actions that aspire,
But led by loue, and graced principall
In this, she once was handmaid vnto skill,
Would (if she durst her stem to raise so hie)
Blazon thy laud, who of Nobilitie
So much hast shew'd, and therein dipt thy quill.
But sithe thy zeale to Honour Nennio
Whom thy desires haue brought from forreine soile,
Hath beene one cause of this thy taken toile,
Vnwaited on with praise thou mayst not goe.
For lookers on that doe partake thy pleasure,
Must of thy vertue find the pretious treasure.
Ang. Day.
| Commendatory poem to Nennio | |