Loves Conqvest

Wer't granted me to choose,     How I would end my dayes;         Since I this life must loose,     It should be in Your praise;     For there is no Bayes         Can be set aboue you.         S' impossibly I loue You,     And for you sit so hie,         Whence none may remoue You     In my cleere Poesie,     That I oft deny         You so ample Merit.         The freedome of my Spirit     Maintayning (still) my Cause,         Your Sex not to inherit,     Vrging the Salique Lawes;     But your Vertue drawes         From me euery due.         Thus still You me pursue,     That no where I can dwell,         By Feare made iust to You,     Who naturally rebell,     Of You that excell         That should I still Endyte,         Yet will You want some Ryte.     That lost in your high praise         I wander to and fro,     As seeing sundry Waies:     Yet which the right not know         To get out of this Maze.