The Poetry Corner

Sonnet: On the Death of Prince Henry

By George Wither

Methought his royal person did foretell A kingly stateliness, from all pride clear; His look majestic seemd to compel All men to love him, rather than to fear. And yet though he were every good man's joy, And the alonely comfort of his own, His very name with terror did annoy His foreign foes so far as he was known. Hell drooped for fear; the Turkey moon looked pale; Spain trembled; and the most tempestuous sea, (Where Behemoth, the Babylonish whale, Keeps all his bloody and imperious plea) Was swoln with rage, for fear he'd stop the tide Of her o'er-daring and insulting pride.