Classic Poem

As an audacious knight,
Come with some foe to fight,
His sword doth brandish, makes his armour ring,
So this prowde bee, at home perhaps a king,
Did buzzing flie about,
And, tyrant, after thy faire lip did sting:
O champion strange as stout!
Who hast by nature found
Sharpe armes, and trumpet shrill, to sound, and wound.