William Browne

I saw a mushroom stand in haughty pride, As if the lilies grew to be his slaves.

If heaven send no supplies, The fairest blossom of the garden dies.

A rose as fair as ever saw the North, Grew in a little garden all alone: A sweeter flower did Nature ne’er put forth, Nor fairer garden yet was never known.

For those sacred powers Tread on oblivion; no desert odours Can be entombed in their celestial breasts.

A heavenly bevy of sweet English dames.

Well-languaged Daniel.

And all the former causes of her moan Did therewith bury in oblivion.

Whose life is a bubble, and in length a span.

Underneath this sable hearse Lies the subject of all verse, Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother; Death! ere thou hast slain another, Fair and learn'd, and good as she, Time shall throw a dart at thee.

Steer, hither steer your wingèd pines, All beaten mariners! Here lie Love’s undiscover’d mines, A prey to passengers.