Classic Poem

To the most honored, best-beloued, and matchlesse Lady, for honor and bounty, the Lady Harington.

Honors transcendent; fovnt, from whome doth spring
Mirrours of noblesse, thou whose bosome is
So fraught with worth as made the mightiest king
Make choise of thee to breede his earthly blisse
Liue as thou art: for more thou can'st not bee,
For all that honors Honor then thou art;
Who art the very crowne of her degree,
And mend'st her misse with one most bounteous hart
For which it were most sacrilegious
To Vertues glory if thy vertues' raies
Should not be still ndored by the Muse,
That now doth finde so few for that to praise;
No, though this Temple be profane (I feare)
Yet in true zeale I'le reare thine image here.