Fainting at last through long infirmities,
He smote his steed, that straight to heaven him bore,
And left me here his losse for to deplore.

VI.

Lastly, I saw an Arke of purest golde
Upon a brazen pillour standing hie, 660
Which th'ashes seem'd of some great prince to hold,
Enclosde therein for endles memorie
Of him whom all the world did glorifie:
Seemed the heavens with the earth did disagree,
Whether should of those ashes keeper bee. 665

At last me seem'd wing-footed Mercurie,
From heaven descending to appease their strife,
The arke did beare with him above the skie,
And to those ashes gave a second life,
To live in heaven, where happines is rife: 670
At which the earth did grieve exceedingly,
And I for dole was almost like to die.

_L'Envoy._

Immortall spirite of Philisides,
Which now art made the heavens ornament,
That whilome wast the worldës chiefst riches. 675
Give leave to him that lov'de thee to lament
His losse by lacke of thee to heaven hent*,
And with last duties of this broken verse,