Henry Constable

To the Marquess of Piscat's Soul

Sweet soul, which now with heavenly songs dost tell
Thy dear Redeemer's glory and his praise,
No marvel though thy skilful Muse assays
The songs of other souls there to excel:
For thou didst learn to sing divinely well
Long time before thy fair and glittering rays
Increased the light of heaven, for even thy lays
Most heavenly were when thou on earth didst dwell.
When thou didst on the earth sing poet-wise,
Angels in heaven prayed for thy company;
And now thou sing'st with angels in the skies
Shall not all poets praise thy memory?
And to thy name shall not their works give fame
Whenas their works be sweetened by thy name?