Whose life is a bubble, and in length a span

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

A heavenly bevy of sweet English dames.

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

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.

Well-languaged Daniel.

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