To Grace-dieu

Grace-dieu, that under Charnwood stand'st alone,
As a grand Relicke of Religion,
I reverence thine old (but fruitfull) worth,
That lately brought such noble Beaumonts forth,
Whose brave Heroick Muses might aspire,
To match the Anthems of the Heavenly Quire.
The mountaines crown'd with rockey fortresses,
And sheltering woods, secure thy happinesse,
That highly favour'd art (though lowly plac'd)
Of Heaven, and with free natures bounty grac'd,
Herein grow happier, and that blisse of thine,
Nor Pride ore-top, nor Envy undermine.