Upon the life and death of the most worthy, and thrice renowned knight, Sir philip SIDNEY: A Commemoration of his worthiness, Containing a brief recapitulation, of his valiant usage and death taken, in her majesties services of the wars in the Low-countries of Flaunders.  
AT LONDON; PRINTED BY RObert Walde-graue, dwelling without Temple-bar.   

¶ To the Right honourable, Sir Francis Walsingham Knight, principal Secretary to her Majesty, and of her highness most honourable prime Counsel.  
PLeaseth your honour: The reverend account wherewith the curious regarders of whatsoever excellency, have entertaigned evermore the deserts and honoured examples, of such as in their times have approved most worthy hath moved me (the most unskilful of a great many, but not the least in well-wishing) to adorn the funerals of the most noble and worthy renowned knight, Sir Philip Sidney, with these slender metres. Whose young years continued with all manner of expectation of such honour, as by due desert he long since acquired, hath made the remembrance of his death, so much the more famous, by how much the more honourably he hath put forward the same, in so laudable an action, as wherein consisteth his love, service, and obedience, to God, his Prince, and his Country. The argument hereof, in zeal of his great Nobility, valour, & worthiness (which upon a sudden I have penned, more answerable to mine own good intendment, then to the weight of his excellencies) I dedicate with all humility unto your honour. Beseeching, that according to the wont nobility of your mind, it may please you to accept & account thereof, as proceeding from the simple store of such a one, who in all humble duty and reverence, gladly would bind himself to do your honour any service. And though the simplicity of the same is such, as in no point may challenge unto itself such honourable liking, yet may it please your honour to deem, that the affection of him that writ it, stood in the highest degree of well-doing, and gladly (if the continuance thereof, had been of more value) could have submitted the same to your favourable censure. And that I may not seem over tedious in so brief a discourse, I humbly surcease herewith to detain your honour, praying the eternal director of all your actions, to have the same evermore in his gracious protection.  Your H. most dutifully affected: A. D.  

Upon the life and death of Sir PHILIP SIDNEY Knight.  

What means this calm: why hang your bended brows?  
what sad conceit: whence sues this sudden maze  
Where are the drops? the sweet distilling dews,  
Of Ida fresh, whereon the Nymphs do gaze:  
Where wons. Thalia with her pleasant lays?  
fine Erato in gladsome Ditties dressed,  
And fair Caliop', statelier than the rest.   

Where be the sisters of the destinies?  
where Fate herself? where fierce uncertain Chance?  
Where are the bedlam brood of Casualties,  
that erst (in loss) their standard did advance?  
What is become of crooked dire Mischance?  
All mazed alike confused do ye roam?  
Griefs gripping t'one, and shame for tother's doom.   

What thing alas that causeth all this grief?  
whereon did dare, that Fury to presume:  
Was it on goods? or loss of private life:  
Or fined course that Nature did resume:  
Wherein proud Fate durst vaunt her highest plume,  
No no alas, the hazard were but small:  
To pinch at such as are at common call.   

What was it then: what was? ye heavens do know,  
It was the choice of all the powers divine:  
The influence self, where Virtues erst did flow,  
The very work of all the Muses nine:  
The care of earth and skies, in one self twine,  
The rarest Type of courtly gentleness:  
Adorned erst with stem of nobleness.   

Muse you that hear this wailful ditty song;  
Muse you to see, distressed how men plain:  
Muse you to think what high despite and wrong,  
Bellona deems is tendered to her train:  
In reaving thus her glories chiefest gain:  
Her worthy Imp, her stately noble knight,  
Whereto it seemed, that Fate had yet no right.   

Then turn your eyes, and view his covered hearse,  
In mournful weeds, see how the Nymphs are clad;  
Dishevelled how the rocks, with cries they pierce,  
how Virtues self, is for her jewel sad.  
Now Fortune bannes, and Imps for grief are mad,  
And judge you then, how rightly men may say:  
Their some of joys, the Fates have reft away.   


* A book by him penned, called the Countesses of Pembroke's Arcadia.  Arcadia now, where is thy sovereign guide,  
who stately Pembroke erst did to thee knit,  
Where be the notes, his skill did erst divide,  
In sundry metres, wound from finest wit,  
Which he so well in covert shapes could fit.  
where be the pipes, the daintiest shepherds sound:  
That ever erst, within thy woods were found.   

Sugared Sidney, Sidney sweet it was,  
That to thy soil, did give the greatest fame.  
Whose honey dews, that from his quill did pass,  
with honey sweets, advanced thy glorious name  
Who ere thee knew, that knew thy soil, to blame:  
far was it from the skill if any one,  
To wade in thee, so far as he hath gone.   

And wilt thou Phoebus therefore be so sad,  
(For he is wracked whom erst thou held'st so choice)  
And from Pernasus shall no Nymph be had,  
That list in laud of him to strain her voice?  
And you so quelled as near you may rejoice:  
Then Sacred Fame, do somewhat for thy knight:  
To win thy love that shed his blood in fight.   

O see you not the Destiny's self, with blame,  
Of lofty skies, for such a rash pretence:  
(To shred his life) already blush with shame,  
And hide their heads for doing such offence.  
As from the world to reave such excellence,  
And were it not (as erst ordained before:  
The heavens him hent) their heads should rue therefore.   

But mighty Powers, that sway on earthly change,  
Have knowledged him unfit for earthly mould:  
Whence thus bereft untimely hence to range,  
By over hasty hand of Parca's bold,  
They have (for this) permitted uncontrolled.  
They shroud their faces, in show of all the train,  
Of worthy wights that yet on earth remain:   

Can Chance, or Hap, or Fate, or what you list,  
Be then of him (thus said) to work their spite?  
Can triumphs ought (to her that riu●d his twist)  
Ensue hereof, to quench your sweet delight?  
Or may be deemed to prejudice his right:  
who matched with virtues many more than one:  
Cannot lie dead though life be fled and gone.   

Injurious death, yet needs I must appeal,  
Cruel to us, to him a cause of bliss:  
Wrong to our love, wrong to the hidden zeal,  
That in each mind by virtue planted is.  
Most heinous wrong performed death in this:  
To reave the world the love, the choice of men  
Of such a rare and far surpassing gem.   

Be pleased yet ye sacred sisters here,  
On Sidney's Tomb your learned tunes to sing:  
Of Laurel fresh a wreath, set on his beer,  
And let his praise within your ditties ring.  
Let Fame resound, and whence your woes did spring,  
Cease not eu●n there, whilst vital air may stand,  
To fill with laud of him the farthest land.   

And for myself (the least of others all,  
That favoured most, that loved, that honoured eke:  
And did with zeal admire what did befall,  
To him by gift, of very natures beak.  
In whom the Virtues all were not to seek)  
Have undertook some matters to recount:  
Wherein this knight, did once in life surmount.   

Be aiding to my skilless fainting pen,  
That hardly dare presume of such a one:  
To speak on write, whose vain from other men,  
So far did stretch, and who to you alone,  
(For rare perfection in his skill that shone)  
Was chary held, was known by knowledge far,  
With sweetest sound each others tunes to bar.   

And (so you list vouchsafe your good aspects,)  
I purpozed have, by favour of your train:  
Some what in brief, both of the large effects,  
That life him gave, and death in greatest pain:  
Him made a gem midst others to remain,  
To utter forth, That all the world may know:  
The precious soil, where dainties such did grow.   

With what one Virtue shall I then begin.  
Where so great haunt of mightiest forces wrought.  
What shall I praise that was not like in him:  
whom Nature's self first for a pattern sought:  
And him endued with all that might be thought.  
That by perfection of so sweet a ground,  
The some of all the rest might more abound.   

What was it wit, or golden wisdoms lore,  
Might deck his years, and make him glorious shine?  
He did surpass. His like in few before  
was ever known, so quick, so neat, and fine,  
So full of weight, with humours so divine:  
were all his words, his works, and actions fraught,  
As seemed from skies a secret power had reached.   

If honoured seat it were that might him deck,  
His birth was great, but virtues more ex celo.  
His high descent remained at Fortune's check,  
But honoured mind a greater force could wield,  
whereon he sought with stately reach to build.  
That as he was by parents nobly borne,  
His virtues might his outward shape adorn.   

But if that valour may his deeds commend,  
Thou mighty Manors knowest he was a Knight  
And Knightly could himself in arms defend:  
Midst press of Foes clad in Armour bright,  
Whereof to think my spirits are daunted quite.  
This one occasion 'twas that bred the scathe,  
Which (Pallas moved) with tears her Knight to bathe.   

O would his prowess at that instant hour,  
Had not him priest so forward in the throng:  
And Hector like (of Chivalry the flower)  
He had not done his dearest soil such wrong.  
As to bereave it of a force so strong,  
who for his Prince's cause and common good,  
In dreadful fight consumed his dearest blood.   

Which with what heart and zeal he offered then,  
with what undaunted reckless force of ill:  
His stoutest foes approved, and eke his men  
whose ventured lives with him their blood did spill,  
Have witnessed erst, and yet can witness still.  
So manly were his acts at all assays,  
And in his death so mighty was his praise.   

At Zutphen (thus the place delivered was,)  
In Gelderland encountering with his foe:  
And of September ere the Month did pass,  
Full rbii. days, so long it was ago:  
With Horse and Lance, the number I not know.  
A valiant charge he set upon the train,  
By force whereof his Foes were priest amain.   

And whilst in press of mightiest Troops he stood,  
This worthy Knight Sir Philip Sidney bold,  
His Horse betrampled all in gory blood:  
At length was slain, and under him lost hold,  
Whereby on foot recoiling uncontrolled.  
He Horsed again renewed a second charge,  
And with fresh fight the skarmouch did enlarge.   

There long he fought whilst many a man was slain,  
And making way, 'mongst thickest press he goes:  
And reckless here and there he kills a main:  
whilst deep entrenched lay his secret Foes,  
From out whereof a Dulket shot arose.  
And leveling just against the worthy knight,  
Up to the thigh the Bullet turned quite.   

Yet fought he still, and ceased not all for this,  
Till he with honour could himself retire:  
This skarmouch done, his wound perceived is,  
By search whereof it mortal did appear:  
what vaileth drops to 〈◊〉 the flaming fire.  
The fretting poison 〈…〉 ward fore,  
So pierced his heart, as die he must therefore.   

This Noble Knight not careless of his state,  
Ne yet unwitting of the brittle stay:  
wherein we live, and how by certain fate,  
Each thing bathe fine, and once must needs decay.  
And as we rise, so must we fall away,  
Not unexpected gladly framed his breath,  
To climb the skies and pay his due to death.   

And first (as near before in all the course,  
And common passage of this bloody war:  
He did forget to feed on sweet remorse,  
which humble souls expect from God a far)  
He sought to free his conscience clean from jar,  
And as his usage was in health before:  
with servant zeal his sins he did deplore.   

And firing faith, firm hope, and special trust  
In him, on whom our aid depends alone:  
He gladly minds his corpses to be but dust,  
Contemns the world, and sighing 〈◊〉 the throne,  
Of him whose mercy saves each faithful one.  
In latest pang he could receive of death,  
He called on God and so gave up his breath.   

Not unremembered here I may let pass,  
Now in his death in deepest pangs he had:  
He not forgot that in his life he was  
A faithful friend of good, and to the bad  
An earnest foe, by deep discretion lad,  
By skilful saws his brother there he told:  
A perfect path his honour to uphold.   

What sage advise, what C 〈…〉 lesome speech.  
w●at counsels such, as a 〈…〉 scarce weld:  
W●●● deep instincts of high and lofty reach,  
He then bequeathed to him, and in the field.  
How he him taught to stay on honours shield,  
To mind his cause, his country, charge of men,  
And think on God that would him prosper then.   

How to his Soldiers he in life was found,  
A careful chieftain and a christian guide:  
How oft his bounty did to them abound,  
To salve such wants as they might not provide.  
From whose relief he never yet could slide,  
But what distress or wrack so ever came:  
His purse and aid was priest to help the same.   

Can they but mourn, that then such one do mis,  
Can we but wail, so few like him that find.  
Can Sidney's name whose soul doth live in bliss,  
Obscured lie. Whose bounty so did bind,  
The hearts of all, to whom he was so kind.  
Nay Fame gainsays (who rightly guerdons all)  
That ere his deeds from mind of man should fall.   
FINIS.