Classic Poem

Goe bashfull Muse , thy message is to one
That drinks and fills thy Helicon .
Who when his quill a sportive number seeks,
Plants Roses in the Ladies cheeks.
And with a sad note from their eyes can call
Pearle-showres to dew those buds withall.
Whose layes when I by chance am blest to heare
My soule climbs up into mine eare,
And bids your sisters challenge from the Moone
The learned, as the faire Endymion .
Sing of his faith to the bright soule that's fled,
And left you all poore girles struck dead
With just despaire of any future men
T'employ, or to reward a Pen.
A soule that staying would have wonders wrought,
High as himselfe, or his great thought,
And full of daies and honours (with our prayers,
In stead of beads summ'd up with tears.)
Might of her own free flight to heaven have gone;
Offer what's heart, his hand, his sword had done,
But sing not thou a tale of discontent
To him whose joy is to lament.
We ought to pay true tears upon the hearse,
And lay some up in faithfull verse,
And so cast off our black; for more then thus
Troubles the Saints for troubling us.
Say to him, Cupid being once too kind
Wept out his eyes and so grew blind.
For dead Adonis , griefe being paid her due,
He turn'd Loves wanton God, and so doe you.