MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. On Shakespear |
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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.On Shakespear
WHAT needs my Shakespear for his honour`d Bones,
The labour of an age in piled Stones,
Or that his hallow`d reliques should be hid
Under a Star-ypointing Pyramid?
Dear son of memory, great heir of Fame,
What need`st thou such weak witnes of thy name?
Thou in our wonder and astonishment
Hast built thy self a live-long Monument.
For whilst to th`sharne of slow-endeavouring art,
Thy easie numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath from the Leaves of thy unvalu`d Book,
Those Delphick lines with deep impression took,
Then thou our fancy of it self bereaving,
Dost make us Marble with too much conceaving;
And so Sepulcher`d in such pomp dost lie,
That Kings for such a Tomb would wish to die.
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