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Lay a garland on my hearse
Beaumont and Fletcher.
XL THE SHEPHERD'S PRAISE OF HIS SACRED DIANA. Praised be Diana's fair and harmless light,
Praised be the dews, wherewith she moists the ground : Praised be her beams, the glory of the night,
Praised be her power, by which all powers abound. Praised be her nymphs, with whom she decks the woods,
Praised be her knights, in whom true honour lives: 6 Praised be that force by which she moves the floods,
Let that Diana shine which all these gives. In heaven Queen she is among the spheres,
She, mistress like, makes all things to be pure; 10 Eternity in her oft change she bears,
She beauty is, by her the fair endure.
Mortality below her orb is placed ;
In her is Virtue's perfect image cast.
It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make men better be;
A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May,
It was the plant and flower of light.
Fair stood the wind for France
Longer will tarry ;
Landed King Harry.
And taking many a fort,
In happy hour ;
With all his power.
Which in his height of pride,
To the King sending ;
Their fall portending.
Be not amazed.
By fame been raised,
Nor more esteem me.
Loss to redeem me.
No less our skill is, Than when our grandsire great, Claiming the regal seat By many a warlike feat,
Lopped the French lilies.' The Duke of York so dread, The eager vaward led
With the main Henry sped,
Amongst his henchmen.
On the false Frenchmen !
To hear was wonder ;
Thunder to thunder.
To our hid forces; When from a meadow by, Like a storm suddenly, The English archery
Stuck the French horses.
Piercing the weather ;
Stuck close together.
Not one was tardy ;