Classic Poem

To my most deere and best beloued Patrouesse, Magdalen Colledge in Oxford.

O HONYED Magdalen! sweete, past compare
Of all the blisfull heau'ns on earth that are;
Happy are they that in thee liue at rest,
As free from Ignorance as State-distrest.
O that I bad an angells tongue to mount
Thy praise beyond the pitch of high'st account
Store makes me scarce; I haue and haue not words
To royalize thy fame as Fame affords;
For Fame, and Fortune both, together striues
To crowne thy praise with rich superlatiues
(Meere abysse of terene felicity!
Diuine inchantresse of the eare and eye)
The wings wherewith thou mount'st thyself aboue
Are wealth and arte, and what else causeth loue.
Liue long togeather head and corps, and all
That's yours directly, is collaterall:
I haue no guifts your grace to amplifie,
But must, with myne aduice, the same supply;
Take heed how you disioyne or fall at strife,
For I obserue all fortunes in this life;
And of them all which I haue seene or prou'd,
Yours, onely yours, deserues to be belou'd.