Classic Poem

Deare eye that doost peruse my Muses stile,
With easie censure deeme of my delight:
Giue sobrest countenance leaue sometime to smile,
And grauest wits to take a breathing flight:
Of mirth to make a trade, may be a crime,
But tyrèd spirits for mirth must haue a time.

The loftie eagle soares not still aboue,
High flights will force her from the wing to stoupe;
And studious thoughts at times men must remoue,
Least by excesse before their time they droupe.
In courser studies 'tis a sweet repose,
With poets pleasing vaine to temper prose.

Profane conceits and faining fits I flie,
Such lawlesse stuffe doth lawlesse speeches fit:
With Dauid, verse to Vertue I apply,
Whose measure best with measured words doth fit:
It is the sweetest note that man can sing,
When grace in Vertue's key tunes Nature's string.