To My Much Honored Cozen, Mr. Stanley, upon His Poems Set by Mr. John Gamble

I.
     Enough, enough of orbs and spheres,
       Reach me a trumpet or a drum,
     To sound sharp synnets in your ears,
       And beat a deep encomium.

                    II.
     I know not th' Eight Intelligence:
       Those that do understand it, pray
     Let them step hither, and from thence
       Speak what they all do sing or say:

                    III.
     Nor what your diapasons are,
       Your sympathies and symphonies;
     To me they seem as distant farre
       As whence they take their infant rise.

                    IV.
     But I've a grateful heart can ring
       A peale of ordnance to your praise,
     And volleys of small plaudits bring
       To clowd a crown about your baies.

                    V.
     Though laurel is thought thunder free,
       That storms and lightning disallows,
     Yet Caesar thorough fire and sea
       Snatches her to twist his conquering brows.

                    VI.
     And now me thinks like him you stand
       I' th' head of all the Poets' hoast,
     Whilest with your words you do command,
       They silent do their duty boast.

                    VII.
     Which done, the army ecchoes o're,
       Like Gamble Ios one and all,
     And in their various notes implore,
       Long live our noble Generall.
               Dudley Posthumus Lovelace.