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