Edward Farr, ed. Select Poetry of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth. 1845.
To the Most Rare Vertue of True Humlilitie. Vpon the Crowne of ThornesXLI. Anonymous
K
A diadem of golde,
When Christ his Lord did beare
A crowne of thornes, whose every cruell folde
That royal head did teare;
Dipping their sharp points deepe,
While angels stood to weepe,
In that most precious bloud,
Whose venerable floud
Made wither’d stockes green bud, and leaues to beare.
Findes now a starry crowne,
In city more by much
Noble and faire then that recouered towne.
Whom Christ’s thornes doe not touch,
Whom his blood mooueth not,
Who hath Christ’s loue forgot,
Were he the greatest thing
That euer was call’d king.
At being spurn’d to hell ought not to grutch.