| |
| FAREWELL, 1 too little and too lately known, | |
| Whom I began to think and call my own: | |
| For sure our Souls were near alli’d, and thine | |
| Cast in the same poetick mold with mine. | |
| One common Note on either Lyre did strike, | 5 |
| And Knaves and Fools we both abhorr’d alike. | |
| To the same Goal did both our Studies drive: | |
| The last set out the soonest did arrive. | |
| Thus Nisus fell upon the slippery place, | |
| Whilst his young Friend perform’d and won the Race. | 10 |
| O early ripe! to thy abundant Store | |
| What could advancing Age have added more? | |
| It might (what Nature never gives the Young) | |
| Have taught the Numbers of thy Native Tongue. | |
| But Satire needs not those, and Wit will shine | 15 |
| Through the harsh Cadence of a rugged Line. | |
| A noble Error, and but seldom made, | |
| When Poets are by too much force betray’d. | |
| Thy gen’rous Fruits, though gather’d ere their prime, | |
| Still shew’d a Quickness; and maturing Time | 20 |
| But mellows what we write to the dull Sweets of Rhyme. | |
| Once more, hail, and farewell! farewell, thou young, | |
| But ah! too short, Marcellus of our Tongue! | |
| Thy Brows with Ivy and with Laurels bound; | |
| But Fate and gloomy Night encompass thee around. | 25 |
