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A Crovvne-Garland of Govlden Roses

Gathered out of Englands royall garden. Being the liues and strange fortunes of many great personages of this Land. Set forth in many pleasant new songs and sonetts neuer before imprinted. By Richard Iohnson

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A short and sweet sonnet made by one of the maides of honor vpon the death of Queene Elizabeth, which she sowed vppon a sampler in red silke.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

A short and sweet sonnet made by one of the maides of honor vpon the death of Queene Elizabeth, which she sowed vppon a sampler in red silke.

[_]

To a new tune or to Phillida flouts me.

Gone is Elizabeth,
whom we haue lou'd so deare:


She our kind Mistris was,
full foure and forty yeare.
England she gouernd well
not to be blamed:
Flanders she succord still,
and Ireland tamed.
France she befrended,
Spaine she hath foiled:
Papists reiected,
and the Pope spoyled.
To Princes powerfull,
to the world vertuous:
To her foes mercifull,
to subiects gracious.
Her soule is in heauen,
the world keepes her glory:
Subiects her good deeds,
and so ends my story.