Classic Poem

O fatal sustren which span his lyues threde
So short a term: whi did ye determine
To suffre hym brenne among the colis rede?
Ye wer to hasti to breken and vntwyne
His web of knihthod that thoruh the world did shyne
And cast of nobless bemys out most clere.
Alas that euer he fill in your daungere.

O out on Styx and out on Attropos,
That han of malis slayn so good a kniht.
Out on you thre that kepe yoursilff so clos,
Douhtres icallid of the dirke niht.
And thou Letum, that quenchest eke the liht
Of Alcibiades, merour and lanterne
To speke in knihthod how men hem shold gouerne.

Ye slen the worthi, wrechis ye don spare:
Torcites lyuth, Ector is slayn in dede.
Your funeral smoks makþ rewmys now so bare,
To race vp cedris, ther braunches may not sprede,
Ye pall the laurer, ye make the firses sede.
Ful litil thank in kingdams ye disserue
Kaitiffs to fostre and do the worthi sterue.

Alcibiades is passed into fate,
Liht of knihthod clipsed in the shade:
The Parchas sustren to soon sett his date
Of hih nobless to make the laurer fade.
Lacedemoynes of his deth were glade:
Funeral fyr his bodi hath defied,
For hih prowess his soule stellified.