Classic Poem

THE FIRST FOUNDER AND MASTER OF THE COLLEIGE OF GODS GIFT .

Some greate by bulk or chance, whom fortune blindes,
Where (if it were) trew virtue wold burst forth,
They sense not haveing, can afford no worth,
And by their meanes doe but condemne their myndes.
To honour such I should disgrace my penne,
Who might prove more, I count them lesse then men.

But thee to praise I dare be bould indeede,
By fortunes strictnesse whilst at first suppress'd,
Who at the height of that which thou profess'd
Both ancients, moderns, all didst far exceede:
Thus vertue many ways may use hir pow'r —
The bees draw honnie out of evrie flow'r.

And when thy state was to a better chang'd,
That thou enabled wast for doing goode,
To clothe the naked, give the hungrie foode,
As one that was for avarice estrang'd:
Then what was fill thou scorn'd to seeke for more,
Whilst bent to doe what was design'd before.

Then prosecute this noble course of thyne,
As prince or priest for state, in charge though none,
For acting this brave part, when thou art gone,
Thy fame more bright then somes' more high shall shyne,
Since thou turn'd great, who this worlds stage doe trace,
With whom it seemes thou hast exchang'd thy place.