University of Virginia Library

An Epytaphe of the Lorde Sheffeldes death.

When Brutysh broyle, and rage of war
in Clownysh harts began
When Tigres stoute, in Tāners bonde
vnmusled all they ran,
The Noble Sheffeyld Lord by byrth
and of a courage good,
By clubbish hāds, of crabbed Clowns
there spent his Noble blud.
His noble byrth auayled not,
his honor all was vayne,
Amyd the prease, of Mastye Curres,
the valyant Lorde was slayne.
And after suche a sorte (O ruth,)
that who can teares suppresse.
To thynke yt Dunghyll Dogs shuld dawnt
the Floure of worthynes.
Whyle as the rauenyng Wolues he prayed
his gylteles lyfe to saue.
A bluddy Butcher byg and blunt,
a vyle vnweldy knaue
With beastly blow of boysterous byll
at hym (O Lorde) let dryue,
And clefte his head, and sayd therwith
shalt thou be lefte alyue?
O Lorde that I had present ben,
and Hectors force withall,
Before that from his Carlysh hands,
the cruell Byll dyd fall.
Then shulde that peasaunt vyle haue felt
the clap vpon his Crowne,
That shuld haue dazed his dogged hart
from dryuyng Lordes adowne.
Then shuld my hands haue saued thy lyfe
good Lord whō deare I loued
Then shuld my hart in doutfull case,
full well to the ben proued,
But all in vayne thy death I wayle,
thy Corps in earth doth lye.
Thy kyng and Countrey for to serue
thou dydste not feare to dye.
Farewel good Lord, thy deth bewayle
all suche as well the knewe,
And euerye man laments thy case:
and Googe thy death doth rewe.