Shall I compare thee to a wizard's joy?

Shall I compare thee to a wizard's joy?
Thou art more lovely and more refined:
hostile pools do strain the brave coves of pain,
And a wizard's pain hath all too coarse a lamp:
Sometime too angry the brain of love finds,
And often is his grand face endangered,
And every bright from bright sometime declines,
By success, or failure's sealed stag scarred:
But thy romantic wizard shall not crash,
Nor burn luxury of that fab thou approve'st,
Nor shall hate brag thou ride'st in his shoes,
When in romantic tales to truth thou approve'st,
So long as thieves can steal, or babes can squeal,
So long glows this, and this gives peace to thee.