Funerall Elegies: Eleg. 9

I Wondred not to heare so brave an end,
Because I knew, who made it, could contend
With death, and conquer, and in open chace
Would spit defiance in his conquered face;
And did: Dauntlesse he trod him underneath,
To shew the weaknesse of unarmed death:
Nay, had report, or niggard Fame denyde
His name, it had beene knowne 'twas Ailmer dyde
It was no wonder, to heare rumor tell,
That he which dyde so oft, once dyde so well:
Great Lord of life, how hath thy dying breath
Made man, whō death had conquerd, cōquer death