Poem by Francis Beaumont

In Laudem Authoris

Like to the weake estate of a poore friend,
To whom sweet fortune hath bene euer slow,
VVhich dayly doth that happy howre attend,
VVhen his poore state may his affection shew:
So fares my loue, not able as the rest,
To chaunt thy prayses in a lofty vayne,
Yet my poore Muse doth vow to doe her best,
And wanting wings, shee'le tread an humble strayne.
I thought at first her homely steps to rayse,
And for some blazing Epithites to looke,
But then I fear'd, that by such wondrous prayse,
Some men would grow suspicious of thy booke:
     For hee that doth thy due deserts reherse,
Depriues that glory from thy worthy verse.

1. The Examination of His Mistress's Perfections
2. The Conclusion
3. On the Marriage of a Beauteous Young Gentlewoman with an Ancient Man
4. Mr. Francis Beaumont's Letter to Ben Jonson
5. To My Friend Mr. John Fletcher, upon His Faithful Sheperdess

Print

1783 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version