volume of his poems in the Lansdowne Collection in the British Museum, although so well known, will bear repeating here:— “Underneath this sable hearse Lies the subject of all verse, _Sidney’s_ sister! _Pembroke’s_ mother Death, ere thou hast slain another Fair, and learn’d, and good as she, Time shall throw a dart at thee! Marble piles let no man raise To her name for after-days; Some kind woman, born as she, Reading this, like Niobe, Shall turn marble, and become Both her mourner and her tomb.” Again, however, Sidney returned to court, and his queen seized every opportunity to do him honour. He received her smiles with the same high and manly gallantry, the same plain and simple boldness, with which he had taken her frowns. In the end, Elizabeth, who, to preserve this “jewel of her crown,” had forcibly laid hands on him when he projected a voyage to America with Sir Francis Drake, and placed her veto on his quitting England when he was offered the crown of Poland, could not restrain his bravery in battle when circumstances called him there. At Zutphen, on the 22nd of September, 1586, he received a mortal wound; and here occurred the touching incident to which, perhaps, more than to any other circumstance, Sir Philip is indebted for his heroic fame. It is thus related by his friend and biographer, Fulke Greville, Lord Broke:—“In his sad progress, passing along by the rest of the army, where his uncle, the general, was, and being thirsty from excess of bleeding, he called for drink, which was presently brought him; but, as he was putting the bottle to his mouth, he saw a poor soldier carried along, who had been wounded at the same time, ghastly, casting up his eyes at the bottle; which Sir Philip perceiving, took it from his head before he drank, and delivered to the poor man with these words: ‘Thy necessity is yet greater than mine.’ He lived in great pain for many days after he was wounded, and died on the 17th of October, 1586.” The close of his life affords a beautiful lesson. “Calmly and steadily he awaited the approach of death. His prayers were long and fervent; his bearing was indeed that of a Christian hero.” He had a noble funeral; kings clad themselves in garments of grief: a whole people grieved for the loss of the most accomplished scholar, the most graceful courtier, the best soldier, and the worthiest man of the country and the age. He was buried in state, in the old Cathedral of St. Paul, on the 16th of February. Both Universities composed verses to his memory, and so general was the mourning for him, that, “for many months after his death, it was accounted indecent for any gentleman of quality to appear at court or in the city in any light or gaudy apparel.”