When Heav'n's great Jove had made the world's round frame,
Earth, water, air and fire; above the same
The ruling orbs, the planets, spheres, and all
The lesser creatures in the Earth's vast ball:
But, as a curious alchimist still draws
from a grosser mettals finer, and from those
Extracts another, and from that again
Another that doth far excel the same;
So fram'd he man of elements combin'd
T' excel that substance where he was refin'd;
But that poor creature, drawn from his breast,
Excelleth him, as he excell'd the rest;
Or as a stubborn stalk, whereon there grows
A dainty lilly, or a fragrant rose,
The stalk may boast, and set it's vertues forth,
But, take away the flower, where is it's worth ?
But yet, fair ladies, you must know
Howbeit I do adore you so;
Reciprocal your flames must prove,
Or my ambition scorns to love.
A noble soul doth still abhor To strike, but where it's conquerour.

Great good and just! could I but rate
My griefs to thy too rigid fate,
I'd weep the world to such a strain,
As it should deluge once again:
But since thy loud - tongu'd blood demands supplies,
More from Briareus' hands than Argus' eyes,
I'll sing thy obsequies with trumpet sounds,
And write thy epitaph with blood and wounds.



The Great Marquis of Montrose