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.