Classic Poem

There runs a blood, faire Earle, through your cleare vains
That well entitles you to all things Noble;
Which still the liuing Sydnian soule maintaines,
And your Names ancient Noblesse doth redouble:
For which I must needs tender to your Graces
This noblest worke of Man; as made your Right.
And though Ignoblesse , all such workes defaces
As tend to Learning , and the soules delight:
Yet since the sacred Penne doth testifie,
That Wisedome (which is Learnings naturall birth)
Is the cleare Mirror of Gods Maiestie,
And Image of his goodnesse here in earth;
If you the Daughter wish, respect the Mother:
One cannot be obtain'd, without the other.