Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey - An Epitaph On Clere, Surrey's Faithful Friend And Follower lyrics

NORFOLK sprung thee, Lambeth holds thee dead ; Clere, of the Count of Cleremont, though hight Within the womb of Ormond's race thou bred, And saw'st thy cousin crowned in thy sight. Shelton for love, Surrey for Lord thou chase ; (Aye, me ! whilst life did last that league was tender) Tracing whose steps thou sawest Kelsal blaze, Landrecy burnt, and batter'd Boulogne render. At Montreuil gates, hopeless of all recure, Thine Earl, half dead, gave in thy hand his will ; Which cause did thee this pining d**h procure, Ere summers four times seven thou couldst fulfill. Ah ! Clere ! if love had booted, care, or cost, Heaven had not won, nor earth so timely lost.