Classic Poem

When thou didst live and shine, thy Name was then
Like a Prometheus giving fire to men.
Now thy brave Soul advanced is and free,
But to write Oxford is an Elegie
Sad as the grave thou ly'st in, whence if we
Could raise thy worth, we better might spare thee.
But That and Thou are lost, and we have none
To keep us now, for our Palladium 's gone;
Gone as a Pearl dropt in the Main; to get
Which we may sink, but not recover it.
Why wert thou gone so soon? dull Holland why
Must thou find war, and we send men to dye?
But oh! thou gain'st by't, having none but ill,
And such as scarce are good enough to kill
That are thy own. Th'hast offered him to Fate,
Whose every Limb was worth more than thy State.
I know the gods are pleas'd with'it, but 'tis we
That feel the losse, not they, nor you, nor he.
Heaven joyes in his accesse, and he in that:
And you thought so much good might expiate
Your blackest sins: not thinking we should be,
Like low Orbes wanting Primum Mobile .
But 'twas thy gain: as when Perfumes are spil'd,
The Air is mixt, and with their odor fill'd:
So where his breath expir'd, the Earth and Air
Are Antidotes 'gainst Cowardice and fear.
Thus 'twas when Sydney dy'd: and 'tis from hence
Thy Clime has had such noble spirits since.
Great Vertues have this Grant, they never dye,
But like Time live to kisse Eternity.
And now men doubt which Name can cite a tear,
Or make a Souldier first, Sidney or Vere .
Yet in this last that dy'd, I'le tell thee how
Thou hast deceiv'd thy self: Know in him thou
Hast slain a Tutelar god; and to prove this,
Think but the time when Breda swallowed is.
Oh since he dy'd with thee, why were't not sworn
To save his bloud in some memorial Urne,
To which men should have come for Valour, just
As sick men to the Spa for health, in trust
There to have been supply'd: But now that he
And that is lost, for thee and thine hear me;
Let not the place be known, lest when men see
His worth, and come to know he dy'd for thee,
They curse thee lower than thy staple, Fish;
Thy own Beer-drinkers, or the Spaniards wish.
But if by curious search it must be known,
Write by it thus, Here Belgia was undone .