Classic Poem

For no respect (great Lord ) but for the loue
I owe to grace and greatnesse ioin'd in one
Doth my weake Pen her strongest vertue proue
To graue thy name vpon this paper -stone;
That if it chance the turnes of Time to brooke,
(Which grinde to pouder all produc'd in Time )
Thy Name at least (which is my most ) may looke
Like to it selfe, in my hard-fauour'd Rime
If voice of those that loue the voice diuine
Bee true (the truth whereof none ought to doubt)
Thou like the Moone , among heav'n's lamps dost shine,
While Sol thy Sov'raigne goes the Globe about.
Long maist thou (as he doth) giue light to all
That pleas'd , or pain'd , doe foote this earthly Ball.