O Petrarke hed and prince of poets al, Whose liuely gift of flowing eloquence, Wel may we seke, but finde not how or whence So rare a gift with thee did rise and fal, (5) Peace to thy bones, and glory immortall Be to thy name, and to her excellence. whose beauty lighted in thy time and sence: So to be set forth as none other shall. Why hath not our pens, rimes so parfit wrought (10) Ne why our time forth bringeth beauty such To trye our wittes as golde is by the touche, If to the stile the matter aided ought. But ther was neuer Laure more then one, And her had Petrarke for his Paragone. +
That petrark cannot be passed
but notwithstanding that
Lawra is far surpassed +
W Ith Petrarke to compare ther may no wight, Nor yet attain vnto so high a stile, But yet I wote full well where is a file. To frame a learned man to praise aright: (5) Of stature meane of semely forme and shap, Eche line of iust proporsion to her height: Her colour fresh and mingled with such sleight: As though the rose sate in the lilies lap. In wit and tong to shew what may be sed, (10) To euery dede she ioynes a parfit grace, If Lawra liude she would her clene deface. +For I dare say and lay my life to wedThat Momus could not if he downe discended, Once iustly say, Lo this may be amended.