Classic Poem

Thou honourd Arundel, in virtues blest,
Hast therein still a progresse, and no rest;
On one the Muses wish thee in thy pace;
Much rather they respect you run the Race,
Ah that you run and never do give over,
So Heaven the Goale, at last you will recover.

As honourd Sr, your worth set up on high
Resplendant is, and in much peoples eye;
Vertue cannot be hid in you who great
Now stand, as if a mountaine were your seate.
Do then, most violently seem to tread
Ever the path of vertue, and you lead:
Lead so the most , and be their demi-head.