To The Nobly Accomplisht Gentleman, Poem by Thomas Bancroft

Not as enamour'd on the various plume
Of a light phansie, doe I here presume
To your straight iudgement in an oblique line
To make my flight, addresse my first designe.
For as a vernall Larke, but lately drest
In her first Downe, abandoning her nest,
Stretcheth her pinions, her--small force assayes,
Flutters, and fals before her flight shee raise,
Feares euery blast, that scarce commit she dare
A Walnuts waight to the light wafting ayre:
So fares my Muse, yet scarcely got on wing,
Nor in the Region high enough to sing;
Such be the musters of her feares, so much
She doubts her strength, and blasting enuies touch.
But the chast bay not euery songster weares,
Nor of Appollo's sonnes prooue all his heires:
'Tis not for all to reach at Shakespeares height,
Or thinke to grow to solid Iohnsons weight,
To bid so faire as Chapman for a fame,
Or match (your family) the Beaumonts name,
Whose grace, due to the Muses, is your claime
Their height, your honour, and their worth your ayme.
Let such as these draw Nectar from the quill,
For freshest Garlands climbe the sacred Hill,
And with high verse the eares of greatnesse swell;
Whilst I, scarce touching at their Thespian well,
With thirsty zeale their happy draughts admire,
And, but your censures truth, no test desire.
Daigne you with clearer knowledge to refine
This drossy ore rak'd from an empty Mine;

Daigne but to grace my verse, and guild my lines,
With that faire splendour from your iudgement shines
And then let enuie all her forces bring,
And feed on basiliskes, and whet her sting,
She shall not wound me with her weapon'd rage,
But pricke me Poet for high vertues stage:
There to aduance 'boue wretched Enuies spight
Mine eleuation, with a sacred flight.
Next vnto heauen, where pleasure's most of price
The Muses Garden be my Paradise.