Classic Poem

Rightly the Iustice and the evenesse, which
Out of you easily spied, shew you rich,
Bewrayes that you a Barke of Or containe,
Ever that passing sweetly through the maine
Rough raging stormes may here a time endure,
The Haven at last it will attaine be sure:
Voiage on still, ne feare the stormes fierce rage,
Set where yo're bound, truth shall your barmes asswage:

Be truely Ors Barke still, nay doe you lose
A jot of that true riches you disclose:
Rightly true Or you then possesse indeed,
Keeping the which you never shall have neede;
Let this Or be the Iustice you possesse,
Entied i'th Bark of your true worthinesse,
You truely be Ors Bark , I so confesse.