Chapter_18

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Who ever gave more honourable prize

To the sweet Muse then did the Martiall crew,

That their brave deeds she might immortalise

In her shril tromp, and sound their praises dew?

Who then ought more to favour her then you,

Moste noble Lord, the honor of this age,

And Precedent of all that armes ensue?

Whose warlike prowesse and manly courage,

Tempred with reason and advizement sage,

Hath fild sad Belgicke with victorious spoile;

In Fraunce and Ireland left a famous gage;

And lately shakt the Lusitanian soile.

Sith, then, each where thou hast dispredd thy fame,

Love him that hath eternized your name.