Let others sing of Knights and Paladins 
In aged accents and untimely words, 
Paint shadows in imaginary lines 
Which well the reach of their high wits records; 
But I must sing of thee and those fair eyes; 
Authentic shall my verse in time to come, 
When yet th'unborn shall say, "Lo, where she lies 
Whose beauty made him speak that else was dumb." 
These are the Arks, the Trophies I erect 
That fortify thy name against old age, 
And these thy sacred virtues must protect 
Against the dark and Time's consuming rage. 
Though th'error of my youth they shall discover, 
Suffice they show I liv'd and was thy lover.