Classic Poem

Some Athiest or vile Infidell in love,
When I doe speake of thy divinitie,
May blaspheme thus, and say, I flatter thee:
And onely write, my skill in verse to prove.

See my racles, yee unbeleeving see,
A dumbe-borne Muse made to expresse the mind,
A cripple hand to write, yet lame by kind,
One by thy name, the other touching thee.

Blind were mine eyes, till they were seene of thine,
And mine eares deafe, by thy fame healed be,
My vices cur'd, by vertues sprung from thee,
My hopes reviv'd which long in grave had lyne.
All uncleane thoughts, foule spirits cast out in mee,
By thy great power, and by strong fayth in thee.