Classic Poem

Who so acquainted is not with my minde,
Nor knowes the Subject faire of whom I write,
Nor how mine ALBA me, to her doth binde ,
Of whom I still discourse, talke, and endite.
 How I doe hope, how I doe feare and grieve,
 How I doe die, and how (againe) I live.

Let him but LOVE seeke out, and him demaund;
And he shall wonders strange to him declare,
Such as at Beauties gaze shall make him stand,
So exquisite, so strange, they be and rare,
 Hele tell him of so rich a Precious stone,
 As like before hath been enjoyde of none.

And if he be desirous for to know,
The Heaven where my faire Angell doth abide,
Northwest from Troynovant he will him shew ,
Alongst which place, faire MERSIE cleere doth glide .
 WAR IN that TOWNE, LOVE (Lordlike) keepeth stil,
 Yet she (ore him) triumphs with chastest will.

Some say she's Lovely Browne; but I dare say
She is Faire , BEAW? SE, so Faire as Faire may be ,
Fairer then is the breake of beautious Day,
When sweete Aurora smileth in her glee .
 But why doe I praise her selfe praising Face?
 I praise her not, tis she, (her selfe) doth grace.