Classic Poem

If friendless faiths, if guiltless thought may shield,
If simple truth that never meant to swerve,
If dear desire accepted fruit do yield,
If greedy lust in loyal life does serve,
Then may my plaint bewail my heavy harm,
That seeking calm have stumbled on the storm.

My wonted cheer eclipsèd by the cloud
Of deep disdain through error or report:
If weary woe enwrappèd in the shroud
Lies slain by tongue of the unfriendly sort,
Yet heaven and earth and all that nature wrought,
I call to vow of my unspotted thought.

No shade I seek in part to shield my taint,
But simple truth, I hunt no other suit.
On that I gape the issue of my plaint,
If that I quail, let justice me confute.
If that my place among the guiltless sort
Repay by doom, my name and good report,

Go heavy verse, pursue desired grace,
Where pity shrined in cell of secret breast
Awaits my haste, the rightful lot to place,
And loathes to see the guiltless man oppressed,
Whose virtues great have crowned her more with fame
Then kingly state, though largely shine the same.