To the Heroicke He
Ros, Henry Earle of Oxenford
Vicount Bulbeck, &c.
Sir, if my unpolish’t pen, that dedicates new
The bashfull utterance of a maiden Muse,
May gracefully arrive onely to you,
Which for her virgin sake, do not refuse,
Time, and more studious howers shall we vow,
To sing your vertues, which are now profuse.
Kings haue drunke water from a louing hand,
And truth’s accepted, though we paint her poore.
The Poets say, the Gods that can command,
Haue feasted gladly on a poore mans store,
Whereby great Sir, we haue to understand,
That humble Riuers adde to the seashore.
Liue long and happy, and with gray haires crown’d,
Reade thy youths acts, which fame shall euer sound.
Your honors obseruant
seruant,
Wil. Barksted.