“When in the chronicle of wasted time”

Sonnet Cvi. when in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In 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 Even 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, They 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.