Wer't granted me to choose,
How I would end my dayes;
Since I this life must loose,
It should be in Your praise;
For there is no Bayes
Can be set aboue you.
S' impossibly I loue You,
And for you sit so hie,
Whence none may remoue You
In my cleere Poesie,
That I oft deny
You so ample Merit.
The freedome of my Spirit
Maintayning (still) my Cause,
Your Sex not to inherit,
Vrging the Salique Lawes;
But your Vertue drawes
From me euery due.
Thus still You me pursue,
That no where I can dwell,
By Feare made iust to You,
Who naturally rebell,
Of You that excell
That should I still Endyte,
Yet will You want some Ryte.
That lost in your high praise
I wander to and fro,
As seeing sundry Waies:
Yet which the right not know
To get out of this Maze.