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Poem by Alexander Montgomerie Sonnet 54. On his Maistres. I Vhat subject, sacred Sisters, sall I sing? Vhase praise, Apollo, sal my pen proclame ? Vhat nymph, Minerva, sall thy novice [name?] The bravest blossome beutie can outbring, On staitly stalk new sprouting, furth [sall spring.] Hou sall I sound the fanphar of hir fame, Vhais angels ees micht mak the sun thin[k shame,] As half eclipsed, in the heuins to hing ! Bot hola, Muse ! thou mints at such a ma[rk,] Vhais merit far excedes thy slender skill ; Jit, if hir grace, for weill, accept gude [will,] Then war thou weil reuardit for thy wark : Bot since to mount thy maistres the commands, With hope, once hazard for to kis hir hands. Alexander Montgomerie Alexander Montgomerie's other poems:
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