Synopsis:

The poet, in reading descriptions of beautiful knights and ladies in old poetry, realizes that the poets were trying to describe the beauty of the beloved, but, having never seen him, could only approximate it.

 
When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme
4In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights,
Then in the blazon of sweet beauty’s best,
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I see their antique pen would have expressed
8Even such a beauty as you master now.
So all their praises are but prophecies
Of this our time, all you prefiguring;
And, for they looked but with divining eyes,
12They had not ⌜skill⌝ enough your worth to sing.
 For we, which now behold these present days,
 Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.

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