Classic Poem

T'was a dispute 'twixt heav'n and Earth
Which had produc't the Nobler birth:
For Heav'n, Appear'd Cynthya with all her Trayne
Till you came forth
More glorious and more Worth,
Than shee with all those trembling imps of Light
With which This Envious Queene of night
Had Proudly deck't her Conquer'd selfe in Vaine.

I must have perrish't in that first surprize
Had I beheld your Eyes;
Love Like Appollo when he would inspire
Some holy brest, laide all his gloryes by.
Els The God cloath'd in his heavnly fire
Would have possest too powerfully
And making of his Preist A sacrifize
Had soe return'd unhallow'd to the Skyes.