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Poem	IN that proud port, which her so goodly graceth, whiles her faire face she reares vp to the skie: and to the ground her eie lids low embaseth, most goodly temperature ye may descry, Myld humblesse mixt with awfull maiesty, for looking on the earth whence she was borne: her minde remembreth her mortalitie, what so is fayrest shall to earth returne. But that same lofty countenance seemes to scorne base thing, & thinke how she to heauen may clime: treading downe earth as lothsome and forlorne, that hinders heauenly thoughts with drossy slime. Yet lowly still vouchsafe to looke on me, such lowlinesse shall make you lofty be.
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