AFter so long a race as I haue run <br />Through Faery land, which those six books co[m]pile <br />giue leaue to rest me being halfe fordonne, <br />and gather to my selfe new breath awhile. <br />Then as a steed refreshed after toyle, <br />out of my prison I will breake anew: <br />and stoutly will that second worke assoyle, <br />with strong endeuour and attention dew. <br />Till then giue leaue to me in pleasant mew, <br />to sport my muse and sing my loues sweet praise: <br />the contemplation of whose heauenly hew, <br />my spirit to an higher pitch will rayse. <br />But let her prayses yet be low and meane, <br />fit for the handmayd of the Faery Queene.<br /><br />Edmund Spenser<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-lxxx-2/
