Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918/On the Death of Sir Philip Sidney
Give pardon blessèd soul, to my bold cries, If they, importune, interrupt thy song, Which now with joyful notes thou sing’st among The angel-quiristers of th’ heavenly skies. Give pardon eke, sweet soul, to my slow eyes, That since I saw thee now it is so long, And yet the tears that unto thee belong To thee as yet they did not sacrifice. I did not know that thou wert dead before, I did not feel the grief I did sustain, The greater stroke astonisheth the more, Astonishment takes from us sense of pain, I stood amazed when others’ tears begun, And now begin to weep when they have done.