“It is not long, since these two eyes beheld
A mightie Prince*, of most renowmed race,
Whom England high in count of honour held, 185
And greatest ones did sue to game his grace;
Of greatest ones he, greatest in his place,
Sate in the bosom of his Soveraine,
And Right and Loyall** did his word maintaine.
  [* I. e. the Earl of Leicester.]
  [** Leicester’s motto.]

“I saw him die, I saw him die as one 190
Of the meane people, and brought foorth on beare;
I saw him die, and no man left to mone
His dolefull fate that late him loved deare;
Scarse anie left to close his eylids neare;
Scarse anie left upon his lips to laie 195
The sacred sod, or requiem to saie.

“O trustlesse state of miserable men,
That builde your blis on hope of earthly thing,
And vainly thinke your selves halfe happie then,
When painted faces with smooth flattering 200
Doo fawne on you, and your wide praises sing;
And, when the courting masker louteth* lowe,
Him true in heart and trustie to you trow!
  [* Louteth, boweth.]

“All is but fained, and with oaker* dide,
That everie shower will wash and wipe away; 205
All things doo change that under heaven abide,
And after death all friendship doth decaie. 
Therefore, what ever man bearst worldlie sway,
Living, on God and on thy selfe relie;
For, when thou diest, all shall with thee die. 210
  [* Oaker, ochre, paint.]

“He now is dead, and all is with him dead,
Save what in heavens storehouse he uplaid: 
His hope is faild, and come to passe his dread,
And evill men (now dead) his deeds upbraid: 
Spite bites the dead, that living never baid. 215
He now is gone, the whiles the foxe is crept
Into the hole the which the badger swept.

“He now is dead, and all his glorie gone,
And all his greatnes vapoured to nought,
That as a glasse upon the water shone, 220
Which vanisht quite so soone as it was sought. 
His name is worne alreadie out of thought,
Ne anie poet seekes him to revive;
Yet manie poets honourd him alive.

“Ne doth his Colin, carelesse Colin Cloute, 225
Care now his idle bagpipe up to raise,
Ne tell his sorrow to the listning rout
Of shepherd groomes, which wont his songs to praise: 
Praise who so list, yet I will him dispraise,
Untill he quite* him of this guiltie blame. 230
Wake, shepheards boy, at length awake for shame!
  [* Quite, acquit.]

“And who so els did goodnes by him game,
And who so els his bounteous minde did trie*,
Whether he shepheard be, or shepheards swaine,
(For manie did, which doo it now denie,) 235
Awake, and to his song a part applie: 
And I, the whilest you mourne for his decease,
Will with my mourning plaints your plaint increase.
  [* Trie, experience.]