twelve o'clock on the 25th of April
I grasped his hand as he made dying lurches , and asked him how he felt , and then opening his great bluish gray eyes for the last time on earth , I could hear only his death gurgle expression : `` God , Truth and Country ! '' Thus passed away the noblest and greatest man that ever graced this earthly globe . The news of his death spread like a prairie fire among the people of Stratford and the surrounding villages , and on to Oxford and London , where the melancholy wail of his obsequies resounded in the halls of the highest court circles , and found the deepest sorrow and regret in the heart of King James . At twelve o'clock on the 25th of April the remains of the Bard were followed to Trinity Church by an immense concourse of mourning humanity ; and there , under the north wall of the old cathedral he was buried , seventeen feet below the surface , and left forever with his earthly glory and his God . That very night , as the sun went down , Drayton , Jonson , Burbage and myself bade farewell to the daughters and personal friends of the Bard , going by fast mail car to Oxford and London . It was one of the saddest nights I had ever experienced , for my dearest friend and lofty teacher would no more humor my lunatic impulses , or guide me in the even , broad road of universal truth . With his voice and form forever gone , there was nothing left to me but to wander over the cheerless , mighty world as a literary pioneer and soldier of fortune , using my pen and sword wherever Love and Liberty displayed their banners .