Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Henry Constable. 1562?1613?110. 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, | 5 |
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; | 10 |
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. |