Classic Poem

But ah my plague through times outrage increased,
For when my sunne his taske had finished
Within the Scorpions mansion, he not ceased
Nor yet his heates extreames diminished,
Till that dead aming Archer drest his quiuer,
In which he closely couched at the last,
That Archer which doth pearce both hart, and liuer
With hot gold-pointed shaftes, which ranckle fast:
That proud commaunding, and swift-shooting Archer,
Farre shooting Phaebus which doth ouershoote,
And more then Phaebus, is an inward parcher,
Thou with thy notes harmonious, and songes soote
Allur'd my sunne, to fier mine harts soft roote:
And with thine euer-wounding golden Arrow
First prick't my soule, then perc'd my bodies marrow.