O that most rare brest, christaline sincere
Through which like gold thy princely heart did shine
O sprite heroic, O valiant worthie knight
O Sidney, prince of fame & mens good will
For thee both kings & princesses doe morne
Thy noble Tombe, three Cities strange desird
Foes to the cause thy prowes did defend
Beewayle the day that crost thy famous race
The dolefull debt due to thy hearse I pay
Tears from the soulе, that aye thy want shall moane
And by my will my life it sеlfe would yeeld
If heathen blame ne might, my faith disdaine:
O heavie time, that my daies draw behind thee
Thou dead dost live, thy friend here living dieth