An Epitaph vpon the death of the worshipfull Maister Richarde Edwardes late Maister of the Children in the Queenes Maiesties Chappell

IF teares could tell my thought,
or plaints could paint my paine,
If dubled sighes could shew my smart,
if wayling were not vaine:
If gripes that gnawe my brest
coulde well my griefe expresse,
My teares, my plaints, my sighes, my wayling
neuer should surcesse.
By meane whereof I might,
vnto the world disclose
The death of such a man (alas)
as chaunced vs to lose.
But what auayles to mone?
If life for life might bée
Restorde againe, I woulde exchaunge
my lyfe for death with thée.
Or if I might some way,
to pay thy rawnsome know,
(O Edwards) then beleue me sure
thou shouldst not lie so low:
That O thou cruell Death,
so fierce with dint of dart
Due curses on my knees I yéelde
to thée with all my hart.
For that it list thée trie
thy foule and cankred spite
On that so rare a péece, on that
so wise and worthy Wight.
Suffisde thée (since thou must
be mad) the simple sort
to flea, or on the brutish blood
of beastes to take thy sport,
And not in furious wise,
with haste and headlong rage
To kill the flowre of all our Realme
and Phaenix of our age.
The fact doth crie reuenge,
the Gods repay thine hire,
Déepe darckned Lake of Lymbo lowe,
and still consuming fire.
His death not I but all
good gentle harts doe mone:
O London, though thy griefe be great,
thou dost not mourne alone.
The seate of Muses nine
where fiftene Welles doe flowe,
Whose sprinckling springs and golden streames
ere this thou well didst knowe.
Lament to loose this Plant
for they shall see no more
The braunch that they so long had bred,
whereby they set such store.
O happie House, O Place
of Corpus Christi, thou
That plantedst first, and gauste the roote
to that so braue a bow:
And Christ Church which enioydste
the fruite more rype at fill,
Plunge vp a thousande sighes, for griefe
your trickling teares distill.
Whilst Childe and Chappell dure,
whilst Court a Court shall bée,
(Good Edwards) eche estate shall much
both want and wishe for thée.
Thy tender Tunes and Rimes
wherein thou woontst to play
Eche princely Dame of Court and Towne
shall beare in minde alway.
Thy Damon and his Friend,
Arcyte and Palemon
With moe full fit for Princes eares,
though thou from earth art gone,
Shall still remaine in fame,
and lyke so long to hide
As earthly things shall liue, and God
this mortall Globe shall guide.
For loe, thus Vertue list,
hir Pupils to aduaunce:
Yet for my part I would that God
had giuen thée better chaunce.
A longer time on earth,
thy hastned death before,
But Edwardes now farewell for teares
will let me write no more.
Well may thy bones be lodgde
thy fame abroade may flie,
Thy sacred soule possesse a place
aboue the starrie Skie.