| | | |
| | | W resteth here that quick could never rest, |
| | | Whose heavenly gifts encreased by disdain |
| | | And virtue sank the deeper in his breast, |
| | | Such profit he by envy could obtain. |
| 5 | | A head where wisdom mysteries did frame, |
| | | Whose hammers beat still in that lively brain |
| | | As on a stithy where that some work of fame |
| | | Was daily wrought to turn to Britain’s gain. |
| | | A visage stern and mild, where both did grow |
| 10 | | Vice to contemn, in virtue to rejoice; |
| | | Amid great storms whom grace assured so |
| | | To live upright and smile at fortune’s choice. |
| | | A hand that taught what might be said in rhyme, |
| | | That reft Chaucer the glory of his wit; |
| 15 | | A mark the which unparfited for time, |
| | | Some may approach but never none shall hit. |
| | | A tongue that served in foreign realms his king; |
| | | Whose courteous talk to virtue did enflame |
| | | Each noble heart, a worthy guide to bring |
| 20 | | Our English youth by travail unto fame. |
| | | An eye whose judgement none affect could blind, |
| | | Friends to allure and foes to reconcile, |
| | | Whose piercing look did represent a mind |
| | | With virtue fraught, reposed, void of guile. |
| 25 | | A heart where dread was never so impressed |
| | | To hide the thought that might the truth advance; |
| | | In neither fortune loft nor yet repressed |
| | | To swell in wealth or yield unto mischance. |
| | | A valiant corps, where force and beauty met; |
| 30 | | Happy, alas, too happy but for foes; |
| | | Lived and ran the race that nature set |
| | | Of manhood’s shape where she the mould did lose. |
| | | But to the heavens that simple soul is fled, |
| | | Which left with such as covet Christ to know |
| 35 | | Witness of faith that never shall be dead, |
| | | Sent for our health but not received so. |
| | | Thus, for our guilt this jewel have we lost. |
| | | The earth his bones, the heavens possess his ghost. |
Contributed by Robert Clark.
