Classic Poem

Thou mighty Mars, the god of soldiers brave,
And thou, Minerva, that does in wit excel,
And thou, Apollo, that does knowledge have
Of every art that from Parnassus fell,
With all the sisters that thereon do dwell,
Lament for him who duly served you all,
Whom-in you wisely all your arts did mell,--
Bewail, I say, his unexpected fall,
I need not in remembrance for to call
His youth, his race, the hope had of him aye,
Since that in him doth cruel death appall
Both manhood, wit, and learning every way.
Now in the bed of honor doth he rest,
And evermore of him shall live the best.