Thence see the fairest light that euer shone,
That cleare which doth worlds cleerenes quite sur∣passe,
Braue Phoebus chayred in his golden throane,
Beholding him, in this pure Christall glasse,
See here the fayrest fayre that euer was.
Delicious fountaine, liquid christalline,
Mornings vermilion, verdant spring-times pride,
Purest of purest, most refined fine,
With crimson tincture curiously Idy'd,
Mother of Muses, great Apollos bride.
Earths heauen, worlds wonder, hiest house of fame,
Reuiuer of the dead, eye-killer of the liue,
Belou'd of Angels, Vertues greatest name,
Fauors rar'st feature, beauties prospectiue,
Oh that my verse thy vertues could contriue.
That stately Theater on whose fayre stage,
Each morall vertue actes a princely part,
Where euery scene pronounced by a Sage,
Eternizeth diuinest Poets Arte,
Ioyes the beholders eyes, and glads the hearers hart.
The worlds memorials, that sententious booke,
Where euery Comma, points a curious phrase,
Vpon whose method, Angels ioye to looke:
At euery Colon, Wisdomes selfe doth pause,
And euery Period hath his hie applause.