Classic Poem

If power of warre had yeelded to renowne,
Of curteous hartes, the Gods had then agreede:
Disgraded S ATVRNE had not tumbled downe,
Nor loue had durst in Goldlike Artes proceede.
O cowardly Gods against your kinde to see,
Your selues, your sonnes, the slaues of loue to bee.

Could loue take league with I OVE against his will,
Or staine the streame of N EPTVNES water Springs:
And could not P LVTO keepe his honor still,
But giue the Heauens and Hilles to other kings?
In faith the face amongst sweete soules should dwell,
That conquered these, in spite of powers in Hell.