An Epitaph vpon Poet Spencer

MOVRNFVLL Muses, sorrowes minions,
Dwelling in despaires opinions,
Yee that neuer thought inuented,
How a heart may be contented
(But in torments all distressed,
Hopelesse how to be redressed,
All with howling and with crying,
Liue in a contiuuall dying)
Sing a Dirge on Spencers death,
Till your soules be out of breath.

Bidde the Dunces keepe their dennes,
And the Poets breake their pennes:
Bidde the Sheepheards shed their teares,
And the Nymphes go teare their haires:
Bidde the Schollers leaue their reeding,
And prepare their hearts to bleeding:
Bidde the valiant and the wise,
Full of sorrowes fill their eyes;
All for griefe, that he is gone,
Who did grace them euery one.

Fairy Queene, shew fairest Queene,
How her faire in thee is seene.
Sheepeheards Calender set downe,
How to figure best a clowne.
As for Mother Hubberts tale,
Cracke the nut, and take the shale:
And for other workes of worth,
(All too good to wander forth)
Grieue that euer you were wrot,
And your Author be forgot.

Farewell Arte of Poetry,
Scorning idle foolery:
Farewell true conceited reason,
Where was neuer thought of treason:
Farewell iudgement with inuention,
To describe a hearts intention:
Farewell wit, whose sound and sense
Shewe a Poets excellence:
Farewell all in one togither,
And, with Spencers garland, wither.

And, if any Graces liue,
That will vertue honour giue,
Let them shewe their true affection,
In the depth of griefes perfection,
In describing forth her glory,
When she is most deepely sory;
That they all may wish to heere,
Such a song, and such a quier,
As, with all the woes they haue,
Follow Spencer to his graue.