Drawne was thy race, aright from princely line, +Nor lesse than such, (by gifts that nature gaue, (15) The common mother that all creatures haue,) Doth vertue shew, and princely linage shine.
A king gaue thee thy name, + a kingly minde, That God thee gaue, who found it now too deere For this base world, and hath resumde it neere, (20) To sit in skies, and sort with powres diuine.
Kent thy birth daies, and Oxford held thy youth, +The heauens made haste, & staide nor yeeres, nor time, The fruits of age grew ripe in thy first prime, Thy will, thy words; thy words, the seales of truth. +
(25) Great gifts and wisedome rare imploide thee thence, To treat from kings, with those more great than kings, +Such hope men had to lay the highest things, On thy wise youth, to be transported hence.
Whence to sharpe wars sweete honor did thee call, +(30) Thy countries loue, religion, and thy friends: Of woorthy men, the marks, the liues and ends, And her defence, for whom we labor all.
There didst thou vanquish shame and tedious age, Griefe, sorow, sicknes, and base fortunes might: (35) Thy rising day, saw neuer wofull night, But past with praise, from of this worldly stage.
Backe to the campe, by thee that day was brought, +First thine owne death, and after thy long fame; Teares to the soldiers, the proud Castilians shame; (40) Vertue exprest, and honor truly taught.
What hath he lost, that such great grace hath woon, Yoong yeeres, for endles yeeres, and hope vnsure,