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ΑΝ ELEGY UPON THAT HONORABLE AND RENOWNED KNIGHT SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, WHO WAS UNTIMELY SLAIN AT THE SIEGE OF ZÜTPHEN, ANNO 1586.

When England did enjoy her halcyon days
Her noble Sidney wore the crown of bays,
As well an honor to our British land

As she that swayed the scepter with her hand.
Mars and Minerva did in one agree

Of arms and arts he should a pattern be;
Calliope with Terpsichore did sing

Of
poesy and of music he was king.
His rhetoric struck Polyhymnia dead,
His eloquence made Mercury wax red,
His logic from Euterpe won the crown,

More worth was his than Clio could set down.
Thalia and Melpomene, say the truth,-
Witness "Arcadia" penned in his youth,—

Are not his tragic comedies so acted

As if your ninefold wit had been compacted

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With high disdain they said they gave no more
Since Sidney had exhausted all their store.
They took from me the scribbling pen I had;
I to be eased of such a task was glad;

Then to revenge this wrong themselves engage,
And drave me from Parnassus in a rage.
Then wonder not if I no better sped,
Since I the Muses thus have injuréd.

I, pensive for my fault, sat down, and then
Errata, through their leave, threw me my pen;
My poem to conclude two lines they deign,
Which writ, she bade return it to them again.
So Sidney's fame I leave to England's rolls.
His bones do lie interred in stately Paul's.

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, valor, wisdom, all in virtuous youth.
His praise is much; this shall suffice my pen
That Sidney died 'mong most renowned of men.

O Zütphen, Zütphen, that most fatal city

Made famous by thy death, much more the pity!
Ah! in his blooming prime death plucked this rose
Ere he was ripe, his thread cut Atropos.
Thus man is born to die, and dead is he.
Brave Hector by the walls of Troy we see.
Oh, 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 Sidney died, his valiant name should live.
And live it doth, in spite 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 phenix Spenser 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 show how he fame's paths did tread,
But now into such labyrinths I am led,
With endless turns, the way I find not out.
How to persist, my muse is more in doubt,
Which makes me now with Sylvester confess
But Sidney's muse can sing his worthiness.
The Muses' aid I craved; they had no will
To give to their detractor any quill.

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