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Henry Howard - A Praise Of His Love
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   Give place, ye lovers, here before
   That spent your boasts and brags in vain;
   My lady`s beauty passeth more
   The best of yours, I dare well sayn,
   Than doth the sun the candle-light,
   Or brightest day the darkest night.

   And thereto hath a troth as just
   As had Penelope the fair;
   For what she saith, ye may it trust,
   As it by writing sealed were;
   And virtues hath she many mo
   Than I with pen have skill to show.

   I could rehearse, if that I wold,
   The whole effect of Nature`s plaint,
   When she had lost the perfit mould,
   The like to whom she could not paint;
   With wringing hands, how she did cry,
   And what she said, I know it, I.

   I know she swore with raging mind,
   Her kingdom only set apart,
   There was no loss by law of kind,
   That could have gone so near her heart;
   And this was chiefly all her pain;
   She could not make the like again.

   Sith Nature thus gave her the praise,
   To be the chiefest work she wrought;
   In faith, methink, some better ways
   On your behalf might well be sought,
   Than to compare, as ye have done,
   To match the candle with the sun.
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