Hexameters, Upon the Never-Enough Praised Sir Philip Sidney
What can I now suspect, or what can I fear any longer?
Oft did I fear, oft hope, whilst life in Sidney remained:
Of nothing can I now despair, for nought can I hope for:
This good is in misery, when great extremity grieves us,
That neither hope of good, nor fear of worse can affright us.
And can I then complain, when no complaint can avail me?
How can I seem to be discontent, or what can I weep for?
He lives eternal, with endless glory bedecked:
Yea, still on earth he lives, and still shall live by the Muses.
Oft did I fear, oft hope, whilst life in Sidney remained:
Of nothing can I now despair, for nought can I hope for:
This good is in misery, when great extremity grieves us,
That neither hope of good, nor fear of worse can affright us.
And can I then complain, when no complaint can avail me?
How can I seem to be discontent, or what can I weep for?
He lives eternal, with endless glory bedecked:
Yea, still on earth he lives, and still shall live by the Muses.
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