Classic Poem

Such was old Orpheus cunning,
That sencelesse things drew neere him,
And heards of beastes to heare him,
The stock, the stone, the Oxe, the Asse came running.
MORLEY! but this enchaunting
To thee, to be the Musick-God is wanting.
And yet thou needst not feare him;
Draw thou the Shepherds still and Bonny-lasses,
And envie him not stocks, stones, Oxen, Asses.