University of Virginia Library

The vvorthie Sir Phillip Sidney Knight his Epitaph, that was of late Lord Gouernour of Floshing

A greater losse then world well waies/or may be toucht with pen,
No lacke so much (in these our daies) as want of worthie men:
Whē wealth is gon, yet wit or hap/may quicklie get more good:
But when the Tree hath lost his Sap/farewell both braunch and bud.
What sighes or sobbes shall now suffice/to counterpaise the paine?
What floods of teares, or weeping eyes/may bring our losse againe?
No sorrowe serues, we wayle to late/our Iewell gay is gon,
A speciall member of our state/had Natures course held on.
For kind did lay a liuely plot/that farre surpast our skill,
To long at large to tell God wot/her cunning worke at will.
But I may shew, how from a Child/she fostred vp this man,
And fraught him full of maners mild/when he this world began.
First knowledge ripe, in Schoole he caught/to whet his noble spreete,
As he had bin by Tully taught/to flowe in sentence sweet.
Both pen and tongue did aunswer mind/as water-streames had ron
From Fountaine head by course of kind/from whēce great floods be gon,
A wit that could conceiue as fast/as went quick view of eye:
A sence that swift as Swallow past/through matters rare and hye.
His eare no sooner heard the sound/of voyce or deepe foresight,
But straight way iudgemēt passage found/to bring dark words to light.
His bountie blased like Torch by night/and dimde their Candles all,
And staynd both Lampe and Lanterne light/where sparkes from flame did fall.
His life with chast desires was deckt/where euer he becam,
As he had bin the Lords eleckt/and made a chosen Lam.
His countnaunce gaue a gladsome grace/with manly pleasant showe,
To all that did beholde his face or/would his fauour knowe.
His learned speach had force to breake/the thick and hardest yce,
And looke what tōgue and mouth did speake/the mind held most in price.
In prime of youth Embastor sent/to Emprour farr from hence,
And wan such credite where he went/that made him honord sence.
Ranne faire at Tilt, like Mars his Sonne/with couched Launce on brest,
And good report of people won/that passed all the rest.
A man made out of goodliest mould/as shape in waxe were wrought,
Or Picture stoode in stampe of gold/to please each gazers thought.
An Heire in deede of great accoumpt/whose hope great hap might haue,
Yet muck made neuer mynd to mount/for ought that Fortune gaue.
His silent lookes sayd wisedome great/did lodge in loftie brow:
His patient heart (in chollers heate) supprest all passions throw.
His inward gifts could closely shroude/in humble courties cheere,
As Phœbus hid his head in Cloude/to shine at length more cleere.
A portly presence passing fine/with beautie furnisht well,
Where vertues buds and grace deuine/and daintie gifts did dwell.
Well seene and read in diuers Artes/his works they shewe the same:
Well trauayld to, in sondrie partes/to purchase peerelesse Fame,
Brought home both language lawde and lore/& might ye Lawrell weare,
And crownd with Garland be therefore/and style of Honor beare.
In Conscience cause and Countries care/to bloodie warres he went,
Where loe on murthering Shot vnware/alas his life he spent.
To farre he ventred for renowne/to short he made his skope:
To soone that stately stalke fell downe/in whom was such great hope.
To late this world will warned bee/to quick comes our dispatch:
To blind is dazeled eyes to see/where Death for life doth watch.
Though manhood runnes in Armor gay/where great exployts haue bin,
Yet courage casts more men away/then all the world can win.
For Sidneis sake (O wicked Shot) our natiue Countrey cryes:
Yea though his death great glorie got/and Fame thereby doth rise,
In wretched earth and Tombe God wot/his worthie bodie lyes:
Who left behinde by heauie lot/a world of weeping eyes.
But chiefly Prince and publick weale/who waies his worth a right,
A secret sigh or two they steale/in thinking on this Knight.
He feard no death, when one did craue/if he would dye or no,
Yet wisht some longer life to haue/if God were pleased so.
First to amend his life he sought/a respite for a space,
To purge his Soule that Christ had bought/and therby purchase grace.
Next only for Religions sake/he crau'd a yere or two,
Before from world he leaue did take/that he some good might do.
And last of all for Commonweale/he wisht a while to liue,
That to the honor of our state/he might some councell giue.
Oh what desire was this of his/from whence came that great minde?
Was euer heauenlier thing then this/brought forth of humaine kinde?
No no, the Pearle of precious price/is lost or stolne away,
The head where dwelt each deepe deuice/will here no longer stay,
His trends and kindred wring their hands/and heauie hearted goe:
His wayling wife like Image stands/and cannot speake for woe.
His Seruants shake their heads and say/(as men orecome with rage)
Where is our Maister and our stay/in this hard haples age.
His Sisters life consumes away/like Snow against the Sunne,
His Brethren ban that dismoll day/when his short race was runne.
His Soldoiurs dolefull Dromme doth sound/& march in mourning sort,
And trayles the Ensigne on the ground/in signe of sad La mort.
But with exchaunge all chaunges goe/for life comes death in place:
For ioy comes payn, for wealth comes woe/for woe & grief comes grace.
So leaue his Soule, where saeftie is/embraest in Abrahams brest,
There let him sleepe with endles blis/that here could take no rest.