One onelie lives, her ages ornament,
And myrrour of her Makers maiestie,
That with rich bountie and deare cherishment
Supports the praise of noble poesie;
Ne onelie favours them which it professe, 575
But is her selfe a peereles poetresse.

Most peereles Prince, most peereles Poetresse,
The true Pandora of all heavenly graces,
Divine Elisa, sacred Emperesse! 
Live she for ever, and her royall p’laces 580
Be fild with praises of divinest wits,
That her eternize with their heavenlie writs!

Some few beside this sacred skill esteme,
Admirers of her glorious excellence;
Which, being lightned with her beawties beme, 585
Are thereby fild with happie influence,
And lifted up above the worldes gaze,
To sing with angels her immortall praize.

But all the rest, as borne of salvage brood,
And having beene with acorns alwaies fed, 590
Can no whit savour this celestiall food,
But with base thoughts are into blindnesse led,
And kept from looking on the lightsome day: 
For whome I waile and weepe all that I may.

Eftsoones* such store of teares shee forth did powre,
As if shee all to water would have gone; 596
And all her sisters, seeing her sad stowre**,
Did weep and waile, and made exceeding mone,
And all their learned instruments did breake: 
The rest untold no living tongue can speake. 600
  [* Eftsoones, forthwith.]
  [** Stowre, disturbance, trouble.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES: 

Ver 15—­Palici..  The Palici were children of Jupiter and Thalia, not
Calliope.  H.

Ver. 205-210.—­There are sufficient reasons for believing that these lines refer to Shakespeare.  He had probably written The Two Gentlemen of Verona, and Love’s Labor’s Lost, before the Complaints were published (1591), and no other author had up to this time produced a comedy that would compare with these.  For a discussion of this subject, see Collier’s Life, Chap.  VII., and Knight’s Biography, pp. 344-348.  C.

* * * * *

VIRGILS GNAT.

LONG SINCE DEDICATED

TO THE MOST NOBLE AND EXCELLENT LORD,

THE EARLE OF LEICESTER,

LATE DECEASED.

Wrong’d, yet not daring to expresse my paine,
To you, great Lord, the causer of my care,
In clowdie teares my case I thus complaine
Unto your selfe, that onely privie are. 
  But if that any Oedipus unware
Shall chaunce, through power of some divining spright,
To reade the secrete of this riddle rare,
And know the purporte of my evill plight,
Let him rest pleased with his owne insight,
Ne further seeke to glose upon the text: 
For griefe enough it is to grieved wight
To feele his fault, and not be further vext.