Philip Sidney, which was formerly placed over his grave in St. Paul's
Church.

England, Netherland, the Heavens, and the Arts,
The Soldiers, and the World, have made six parts
Of noble Sidney; for who will suppose
That a small heap of stones can Sidney enclose?
England hath his Body, for she it fed,
Netherland his Blood, in her defence shed:
The Heavens have his Soul, the Arts have his Fame,
The Soldiers the grief, the World his good Name.

There were many points in which the case of Sidney resembled that of
Charles I. He was a sovereign, but of a nobler kind--a sovereign in the
hearts of men; and after his premature death he was truly, as he hath
been styled, 'the world-mourned Sidney.' So fondly did the admiration of
his contemporaries settle upon him, that the sudden removal of a man so
good, great, and thoroughly accomplished, wrought upon many even to
repining, and to the questioning the dispensations of Providence. Yet
he, whom Spenser and all the men of genius of his age had tenderly
bemoaned, is thus commemorated upon his tomb-stone; and to add to the
indignity, the memorial is nothing more than the second-hand coat of a
French commander! It is a servile translation from a French epitaph,
which says Weever, 'was by some English Wit happily imitated and
ingeniously applied to the honour of our worthy chieftain.' Yet Weever
in a foregoing paragraph thus expresses himself upon the same subject;
giving without his own knowledge, in my opinion, an example of the
manner in which an epitaph ought to have been composed: 'But I cannot
pass over in silence Sir Philip Sidney, the elder brother, being (to use
Camden's words) the glorious star of this family, a lively pattern of
virtue, and the lovely joy of all the learned sort; who fighting
valiantly with the enemy before Zutphen in Geldesland, dyed manfully.
This is that Sidney, whom, as God's will was, he should therefore be
born into the world even to shew unto our age a sample of ancient
virtues: so His good pleasure was, before any man looked for it, to call
for him again and take him out of the world, as being more worthy of
heaven than earth. Thus we may see perfect virtue suddenly vanisheth out
of sight, and the best men continue not long.'

There can be no need to analyse this simple effusion of the moment in
order to contrast it with the laboured composition before given; the
difference will flash upon the Reader at once. But I