- <poem>
Drawn was thy race aright from princely line, Nor less than such (by gifts that Nature gave, The common mother that all creatures have) Doth virtue show, and princely lineage shine.
A King gave thee thy name; a kingly mind That GOD thee gave: who found it now too dear For this base world; and hath resumed it near, To sit in skies, and 'sort with powers divine.
Kent, thy birthdays; and Oxford held thy youth. The heavens made haste, and stayed nor years nor time; The fruits of age grew ripe in thy first prime: Thy will, thy words; thy words, the seals of truth.
Great gifts and wisdom rare employed thee thence, To treat from kings, with those more great than kings. Such hope men had to lay the highest things On thy wise youth, to be transported thence.
Whence to sharp wars, sweet Honour did thee call, Thy country's love, religion, and thy friends: Of worthy men, the marks, the lives and ends; And her defence, for whom we labour all.
- <poem>
