Classic Poem

Oh fayre sweet gloue
Deuine token
Of her sweet loue
Sweetely broken:
By wordes, sweet loues she durst not moue,
These giftes her loue to me do proue
Though neuer spoken.

On her fayre hand
This gloue once was,
None in this land
Did euer passe
Her handes fayre white, come loues here stand,
Let graces (with yours) match her hand:
Hyde, hyde alas!

Graces would smile
If you should matche,
Herr's yours beguile,
Her's garlandes catche
From all the Nymphes, which blush the while
To see there white out-match't a myle
Which prayse did watche.

This gloue I kisse,
And for thy sake
I will not misse
But ballades make,
And euery shepheard shall know this,
Parthenophil in such grace is.
Muses awake:

For I will sing
Thy matchelesse prayses:
And my pypes bring
Which floodes amaises,
Wilde Satyres friskines shall out-fling,
The rockes shall this dayes glorie ring
Whiles Nymphes bring dazes .

Some woodbynes beare
Some damaske roses
The muses were
A bynding poases,
My goddesse gloue to herrye heere,
Great Pan , commes in with flowers seare
And crownes composes.

I note this day,
Once euery yeare
An holy-day
For her kept deare:
An hundreth swaines on pypes shall play,
And for the gloue maske in aray
With iolly cheare.

A gloue of gold
I will bring in,
For which swaines bold
Shall strife begin:
And he (which loues can best vnfold,
And hath in songes his minde best told)
The gloue shall winne.

Nymphes shall resorte,
And they (with flowers)
Shall decke a forte
For parramours:
Which for this gloue shall there contende,
Vnpartiall Nymphes shall Iudgement ende:
And in those bowers

Pronounce, who best
Deseru'd of all:
Then by the rest
A coronall
Of Roses , freshly shall be drest:
And he with that rich gloue possest,
As principall.