Classic Poem

Bright Carre that carri'st so much royal grace
As doth the coach of Phœbus in his pride:
So good thy carriage is, so right thy race.
That soueraigne fauour will be still thy guide.
It's no meane vertue so high grace to beare
Without some cracke in carriage, wracke in pace:
But thou runnst sure on wheeles of loue and feare
To Honors tropicke, fraught with soueraigne grace.
Looke to those wheeles then, let them not decay.
And they'l ore-runne the big'st rubbs in thy way.