The poets and scholars of that cultured period vied with each other in speaking in praise of the departed. As he was so entirely one in heart with his twin-souled sister, the more immediate subject of this sketch, one of these may be selected by way of illustration. Camden, writing of him, says: "Philip Sidney, the great glory of his family, the great hopes of mankind, the most lively pattern of virtue, and the darling of the world, nobly engaging the enemy at Zutphen in Guelderland, lost his life bravely and valiantly. This is that Sidney whom, as Providence seems to have sent into the world to give the present age a specimen of the ancients, so did it on a sudden recall him, and snatch him from us, as more worthy of heaven than of earth. Thus when virtue has come to perfection it presently leaves us, and the best things are seldom lasting. Rest, then, in peace, O Sidney! if I may be allowed this address. We will not celebrate thy memory with tears, but with admiration. Whatever we loved best in thee (as the best of authors speaks of the best governor of Britain), whatever we admire in thee continues and will continue in the memories of men, the revolutions of ages, and the annals of time. Many, as being inglorious and ignoble, are buried in oblivion; but Sidney shall live to all posterity. For, as the Greek poet has it, Virtue is beyond the reach of fate." An elegy, entitled, "The Doleful Lay of Clorinda," included by Spenser in his "Astrophel," and by him ascribed to the Countess of Pembroke, affords an example of her own writing and an intimation of the way in which she bore her irreparable loss. A few stanzas only can be quoted:-- "Ay me, to whom shall I my case complain, That may compassion my impatient grief? Or where shall I unfold my inward pain, That my enriven heart may find relief? Shall I unto the heavenly powers it show, Or unto earthly men that dwell below? * * * * * "Woods, hills, and rivers now are desolate, Sith he is gone the which did all them grace; And all the fields do wail their widow state, Sith death their fairest flower did late deface. The fairest flower in field that ever grew, Was Astrophel; that was, we all may rue. "What cruel hand of cursed foe unknown, Hath cropt the stalk that bore so fair a flower? Untimely cropt, before it well were grown, And clean defaced in untimely hour. Great loss to all that ever him did see; Great loss to all, but greatest loss to me! "Ah! no; he is not dead, nor can he die; But lives for aye in blissful Paradise. * * * * *