Poem by Henry Constable

Of the Nativity of the Lady Rich's Daughter

Fair by inheritance, whom born we see
Both in the wondrous year and on the day
Wherein the fairest planet beareth sway,
The heavens to thee this fortune do decree:
Thou of a world of hearts in time shalt be
A monarch great, and with one beauty's ray
So many hosts of hearts thy face shall slay,
As all the rest for love shall yield to thee.
But even as Alexander when he knew
His father's conquests wept, lest he should leave
No kingdom unto him for to subdue,
So shall thy mother thee of praise bereave.
So many hearts already she hath slain,
As few behind to conquer shall remain.

1. To the Marquess of Piscat's Soul
2. H.C. to the Gentleman Reader
3. To the Blessed Sacrament
4. My Lady’s Presence Makes the Roses Red
5. The Shepherd's Venus and Adonis

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