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TO HIS MISTRESSE.
Bright Starre of Beauty, fairest Faire aliue,
Rare president of peerelesse chastity;
(In whom the Muses and the Graces striue,
Which shall possesse the chiefest part of thee:)
Oh let these simple lines accepted bee:
Which here I offer at thy sacred shrine:
Sacred, because sweet Beauty is diuine.
And though I cannot please each curious eare,
With sugred Noates of heauenly Harmonie:
Yet if my loue shall to thy selfe appeare,
No other Muse I will inuoke but thee:
And if thou wilt my faire Thalia be,
Ile sing sweet Hymnes and praises to thy name,
In that cleare Temple of eternal Fame.
But oh (alas) how can mine infant Muse
(That neuer heard of Helicon before)
Performe my promise past; when they refuse
Poore Shepheards Plaints; yet will I still adore
Thy sacred Name, although I write no more:
Yet hope I shall, if this accepted bee:
If not, in silence sleepe eternally.
