Whether thou warlike Barbarie bestride
(That angry is with the controwling bit)
Or in calm Peace (thy armour layd aside)
Determining Causes on the Bench dost sit,
Or dost retire to th'Muses thy delight,
And reads, or makes as they to thee indite:
Wheresoe'r thou art (renown'd Knight) thou dost beare
The Image of that Monarch great of France,
To whom Minerva brought both Shield and Speare;
Whose Ensignes Victory did still advance;
And on whose Grave, with bitter tears besprent,
Mars mournes, and Prowess her hoare-hairs doth rent.
Achilles Friend so like him did not goe,
Whom Hector in his roome inrag'd did slay,
As thou dost him in every point: For, so
His eyes he mov'd, his hands did so display.
And, more: The Heavens this Grace unto thee give,
His Vertues cannot die, while Thou dost live.