Classic Poem

When death to deck his trophees stopt thy breath,
Rare ornament and glory of these parts,
All with moist eyes might say, and ruthfull hearts,
That things immortall vassal'd were to death.

What good, in parts on many shar'd, we see
From nature, gracious heaven, or fortune flow,
To make a master-piece of worth below,
Heaven, nature, fortune gave in grosse to thee.

In honour, bounty, rich, in valour, wit,
In courtesie, borne of an ancient race,
With bayes in war, with olives crown'd in peace,
Match'd great, with off-spring for great actions fit.

No rust of times nor change thy vertue wan,
With times to change, when truth, faith, love decay'd
In this new age; like fate, thou fixed stay'd,
Of the first world an all-substantiall man.

As earst this kingdome given was to thy syre,
The prince his daughter trusted to thy care,
And well the credit of a gem so rare
Thy loyalty and merit did require.

Yeares cannot wrong thy worth, that now appeares,
By others set, as diamonds among pearles;
A queen's deare foster, father to three earles,
Enough on earth to triumph are o're yeares.

Life a sea-voyage is, death is the haven,
And fraught with honour there thou hast arriv'd,
Which thousands seeking, have on rocks been driven,
That good adornes thy grave, which with thee liv'd:
For a fraile life which here thou didst enjoy,
Thou now a lasting hast, freed of annoy.