Classic Poem

Sweet Silvia in a shadie wood
With her faire Nimphs layde downe
Sawe nott farr off wher Cupid stood
The Monarck of loves crowne;

All naked playing with his wings
Within a mirtle tree
Which sight a soddaine laughter brings
His godhead soe to see;

And fondly they beegan to jest
With scofing, and delight,
Nott knowing hee did breed unrest,
And that his will's his right;

When hee perseaving of theyr scorne
Grew in such desp'rate rage
Who butt for honor first was borne
Cowld nott his rage aswage;

Till shooting of his murdring dart
Which nott long lighting was
Knowing the next way to the hart
Did through a poore nimph pas;

This shott, the others made to bow
Beesids all those to blame
Who scorners bee, or nott allow
Of powrfull Cupids name;

Take heede then, nor doe idly smyle
Nor loves commands despise
For soone will hee your strength beeguile
Although hee want his eyes.