The Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser, Volume 5 | Page 4

crie, And grieve that my
remembrance quite is raced* Out of the knowledge of posteritie, And
all my antique moniments defaced? Sith I doo dailie see things highest
placed, 180 So soone as Fates their vitall thred have shorne, Forgotten
quite as they were never borne [* _Raced_, razed.]
"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.]
"He dyde, and after him his brother dyde, His brother prince, his
brother noble peere, 240 That whilste he lived was of none envyde,
And dead is now, as living, counted deare; Deare unto all that true
affection beare, But unto thee most deare, O dearest Dame, His noble
spouse and paragon of fame. 245
"He, whilest he lived, happie was through thee, And, being dead, is
happie now much more; Living, that lincked chaunst with thee to bee,
And dead, because him dead thou dost adore As living, and thy lost
deare love deplore. 250 So whilst that thou, faire flower of chastitie,
Dost live, by thee thy lord shall never die.

"Thy lord shall never die, the whiles this verse Shall live, and surely it
shall live for ever: For ever it shall live, and shall rehearse 255 His
worthie praise, and vertues dying never, Though death his soule doo
from his bodie sever: And thou thy selfe herein shalt also live; Such
grace the heavens doo to my verses give.
"Ne shall his sister, ne thy father, die; 260 Thy father, that good earle of
rare renowne, And noble patrone of weake povertie; Whose great good
deeds, in countrey and in towne. Have purchast him in heaven an
happie crowne: Where he now liveth in eternall blis, 265 And left his
sonne t'ensue those steps of his.
"He, noble bud, his grandsires livelie hayre, Under the shadow of thy
countenaunce Now ginnes to shoote up fast, and flourish fayre In
learned artes, and goodlie governaunce, 270 That him to highest honour