Classic Poem

Once as I dyd contemplate with myn Eyes
the hugie frame of all the heavens abowe
The moone the Starres and bewtye of the skies
and how each thinge in order due dyd move
Me thoughte the syght thereoff lyked me so well
as that I wishte in that fayre place to dwell

And with my selfe begann to Reasone this
o Bewtie rare, whose lyke yett never was
For since the same withoute so gloryous is
within me thinks ytt needes muste farr surpass
And therewithall I dyd this worlde dyspise
and wishde that death woulde lead me to those skies

Butt err this passion longe my mynde had ceasd
I myghte beholde, with Stately gate passe by
A dame whose hue myne eyes hadd somtymes pleasd
and nowe so farr my staggeringe sence did trye
As that I sayde what neede I further seeke
yf pleasinge syghts, so much my fancye like

What neede myne Eyes quoth I so wyde to runne
or gase so hye uppon the loftie Spheare
When here belowe remaynes the blasinge Sunne
whose lyvely beames the clearest sight can bleare
And in this sorte as one with doubte amasde
Sometyms alofte, sometymes on her I gasde

Tyll at the laste with griefe to mynde I calde
what crueltye dyd foster in her Breste
Whose pleasinge lookes soe much my mynd had thrald
which made me then all flattringe formes deteste
And almoste of those hevenlye Joyes dispayre
whose outewarde show to me dyd seme so faire.