Classic Poem

Round is the circle that your vertues goe,
O noble Peere, if vertuous deeds doe show;
Belov'd with God indeed Sir that you are,
Expressing so your minds faire beauties rare,
Rare then must needs your fortitude abide,
True orb of graces whatsoever betide,
Vertue an orb inhabits within thee,
So thee an orb of vertue we decree.

Byde noble peere, and doe but thou remaine,
O as thou art, nor constancy doe staine;
Your vertues then will make men doing right
Doubtles confesse you byde an orb in sight
Ever most true, which breeds most sound delight.