Sonnet Xxxv Poem by E C Esquire

O Faith, thou sacred Phoenix of this age,
Into another world from hence exiled
Diuorc'd from honor by vnheedfull rage,
Pure vertues nest by hatefull vice defiled:
Thou faith that cal'st thy sirname Constancie,
Christned aboue the nine-fold glorious sphere,
And from the heauens deriues thy pedegree,
Planting the roote of thy faire linage there:
Let this thy glorie be aboue the rest,
That banisht earth where thou didst once remaine,
Thou yet maist harbour in my mistris brest,
So a pure chest pure treasure may containe,
And in her liuing beautie neuer old,
Seem like a pretious Diamond set in gold.