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In this surmize he made with speede
The thunder that in cloudes do breede;
With privie force burst out againe,
And so our Astrophill was slaine.
His word (was slaine!) straightway did move,
The skie immediately above
Was dined with hideous clouds of pitch,
The wrastling winds from out the ground 185
The bending trees exprest a grone,
And sigh'd the sorrow of his fall;
The Turtle dove with tunes of ruthe
Unto his love more trustie found,
Than he for whom our griefs abound.
The Swan, that was in presence heere,
Began his funeral dirge to sing:
Good things (quoth he) may scarce appeere,
But passe away with speedie wing.
This mortall life as death is tride,
And death gives life, and so he di'de.
The generall sorrow that was made,
Among the creatures of [each] kinde,
So as I might with reason see,
That such a Phoenix nere should bee.
Haply the cinders, driven about,
May breede an offspring neere that kinde,
It cannot sinke into my minde,
That under branches ere can bee
Of worth and value as the tree.
The Egle markt with pearcing sight
And parted thence with mounting flight,
To signifie to love the case,
What sorrow nature doth sustaine
And, while I followed with mine eie
The flight the Egle upward tooke,
All things did vanish by and by,
And disappeared from my looke:
The trees, beasts, birds, and grove was gone;
So was the friend that made this mone.
This spectacle had firmly wrought
A deepe compassion in my spright;
My molting hart issude, me thought,
UPON THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, KNIGHT,
LORD GOVERNOR OF FLUSHING.
praise thy life, or waile thy worthie death,
Yet rich in zeale, though poore in learnings lore,
And friendly care obscurde in secret brest,
Thy deere life done, and death, hath doubled more.
And I, that in thy time, and living state,
As one that seeld1 the rising sun hath sought,
With words and teares now waile thy timelesse fate.
1 Seeld, seldom
* "To the two following pieces I am unable to assign their authors; but no reader will imagine them the productions of Spenser."-TODD.
Drawne was thy race aright from princely line;
The common mother that all creatures have,)
Doth vertue shew, and princely linage shine.
A king gave thee thy name; a kingly minde,
Kent thy birth daies, and Oxford held thy youth;
Great gifts and wisedom rare imployd thee thence, 25
Whence to sharpe wars sweet honor did thee call,
There didst thou vanquish shame and tedious age,
Back to the campe, by thee that day was brought,