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THe glorious
portraict of that Angels face,
Made to amaze weake
mens confused skil:
and this worlds worthlesse glory
to embase,
what pen, what pencill can expresse her
fill?
For though he colours could deuize at will,
and eke his learned hand at pleasure guide:
least trembling it his wormanship should spill,
yet
many wondrous things there are beside.
The sweet
eye-glaunces, that like arrowes glide,
the charming
smiles, that rob sence from the hart:
the louely
pleasance and the lofty pride,
cannot expressed be
by any art.
A greater craftesmans hand thereto doth
neede,
that can expresse the life of things indeed.
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