Of the goddes elycon / is the sprynge or well
And by it groweth / a fayre laurell grene
Of whiche the poetes do ofte wryte and tell
Besyde this olyue / I dyde neuer dwell
To tast the water whiche is aromatyke
For to cause me wryte with lusty rethoryke
Wherefore good souerayne / I beseche your hyghnes
To pardon me whiche do rudely endyte
As in this arte hauynge small intres
But for to lerne is all myn appetyte