Several Poems, Elegy 1
An Elegie upon that Honourable and renowned Knight Sir Philip Sidney, who was untimely ſlain at the Siege of Zutphan, Anno, 1586.
WHen England did enjoy her Halſion dayes,
Her noble Sidney wore the Crown of Bayes;
As well an honour to our Britiſh Land,
As ſhe that ſway'd the Scepter with her hand;
Mars and Minerva did in one agree,
Of Arms and Arts he ſhould a pattern be,
Calli…pi with Terpſichor… did ſing,
Of Poeſie, and of muſick, he was King;
His Rhetorick ſtruck Pol…mina dead,
His Eloquence made Mercury wax red;
His Logick from Euterpe won the Crown,
More worth was his then Clio could ſet down.
Thalia and Melpomene ſay truth,
(Witneſs Arcadia penned in his youth,)
Are not his tragick Comedies ſo acted.
As if your ninefold wit had been compacted.
To ſhew the world, they never ſaw before
That this one Volume ſhould exhauſt your ſtore;
His wiſer dayes condemn'd his witty works,
Who knows the ſpels that in his Rhetorick lurks,
But ſome infatuate fools ſ…on caught therein,
Fond Cupias Dame had never ſuch a gin
Which makes ſeverer eyes but ſlight that ſtory,
And men of moroſe minds envy his glory:
But he's a Beetle head that can't deſcry
A world of wealth within that rubbiſh lye,
And doth his name, his work his honour wrong,
The brave refiner of our Britiſh tongue,
That ſees not learning, valour and morality,
Juſtice, friendſhip, and kind hoſpitality,
Yea and Divinity within his book,
Such were prejudicate, and did not look.
In all Records his name I ever ſee
Put with an Epithite of dignity,
Which ſhews his worth was great his honour ſuch,
The love his Country ought him, was as much.
Then let none diſallow of theſe my ſtraines
Whilſt Engliſh blood yet runs within my veins.
O brave Achilles, I wiſh ſome Homer would
Engrave in Marble, with Characters of gold
The valiant fe…s thou didſt on Flanders coaſt,
Which at this day fair Belgia may boaſt.
The more I ſay, the more thy worth I ſtain,
Thy fame and praiſe is far beyond my ſtrain.
O Zutphen, Zutphen that moſt fatal City
Made famous by thy death, much more the pity:
Ah! in his blooming prime death pluckt this roſe
E're he was ripe, his thread cut Atropos.
Thus man is born to dye, and dead is he,
Brave Hector, by the walls of Troy we ſee.
O who was near thee but did ſore repine
He reſcued not with life that life of thine:
But yet impartial Fates this boon did give,
Though Stancy di'd his valiant name ſhould live:
And live it doth in ſpight of death through fame,
Thus being overcome, he overcame.
Where is that envious tongue, but can afford
Of this our noble Scipio ſome good word.
Great Bartas this unto thy praiſe adds more,
In ſad ſweet verſe, thou didſt his death deplore.
And Phaenix Spencer doth unto his life,
His death preſent in ſable to his wife.
Stella the fair▪ whoſe ſtreams from Conduits fell
For the ſad loſs of her dear Aſtrophel.
Fain would I ſhew how he fames paths did tread,
But now into ſuch Lab'rinths I am lead,
VVith endleſs turnes, the way I'find not out,
How to perſiſt my Muſe is more in doubt;
VVhichWhich makes me now with Silveſter confeſs,
But Sidney's Muſe can ſing his worthineſs.
The Muſes aid I crav'd▪ they had no will
To give to their Detractor any quill,
VVith high disdain, they ſaid they gave no more,
Since Sidney had exhauſted all their ſtore.
They took from me the ſcribling pen I had,
(I to be eas'd of ſuch a task was glad)
Then to reveng this wrong, themſelves engage,
And drave me from Pa…naſſus in a rage.
Then wonder not if I no better ſped,
Since I the Muſes thus have injured.
I penſive for my fault ſate down, and then
Errata through their leave, threw me my pen,
My Poem to conclude, two lines they deign
Which writ, ſhe bad return't to them again;
So Sidneys fame I leave to Englands Rolls,
His bones do lie interr'd in ſtately Pauls.
His Epitaph.
Here lies in fame under this ſtone,
Philip and Alexander both in one;
Heir to the Muſes, the Son of Mars in Truth,
Learning, Valour, Wiſdome all in virtuous youth,
His praiſe is much, this ſhall ſuffice my pen,
That Sidney dy'd 'mong moſt renown'd of men.