Classic Poem

Power above powers, O heavenly Eloquence,
That with the strong rein of commanding words
Dost manage, guide, and master the eminence
Of men's affections, more than all their swords,
Shall we not offer to thy excellence
The richest treasure that our wit affords?

Thou that canst do much more with one poor pen,
Than all the powers of princes can effect;
And draw, divert, dispose and fashion men,
Better than force or rigour can direct!
Should we this ornament of glory then,
As the unmaterial fruits of shades, neglect?

Or should we careless come behind the rest
In power of words, that go before in worth;
When as our accent's equal to the best,
Is able greater wonders to bring forth?
When all that ever hotter spirits expressed
Comes bettered by the patience of the north.

And who, in time, knows whither we may vent
The treasure of our tongue, to what strange shores
This gain of our best glory shall be sent,
To enrich unknowing nations with our stores?
What worlds in the yet unformèd Occident
May come refined with the accents that are ours?

Or who can tell for what great work in hand
The greatness of our style is now ordained?
What powers it shall bring in, what spirits command?
What thoughts let out, what humours keep restrained?
What mischief it may powerfully withstand;
And what fair ends may thereby be attained?

And as for Poesy, mother of this force,
That breeds, brings forth, and nourishes this might,
Teaching it in a loose, yet measured course,
With comely motions how to go upright;
And fostering it with bountiful discourse,
Adorns it thus in fashions of delight:

What should I say? since it is well approved
The speech of Heaven, with whom they have commerce,
That only seem out of themselves removed,
And do with more than human skills converse:
Those numbers, wherewith Heaven and Earth are moved,
Show weakness speaks in prose, but power in verse.