Of noble bloud I cannot boast my byrth,
For I was made out of the meanest molde,
Mine heritage but seuen foote of th’earth,[1975]
Fortune ne gaue to mee the gifts of golde:
But I could brag of nature, if I wolde,
Who fild my face with fauour fresh and fayre,
Whose beauty shon like Phœbus in the ayre.
11.*
By beautie blas’d like torch of twinckling starre,
A lively lamp that lends darke world some light,