University of Virginia Library


150

VERSES SENT TO AARON HILL, ESQ.

WITH THE TRAGEDY OF SIR THOMAS OVERBURY,

EXPECTING HIM TO CORRECT IT.

I

As the soul, stript of mortal clay,
Grows all divinely fair,
And boundless roves the milky way,
And views sweet prospects there,

II

This hero, clogg'd with drossy lines,
By thee new vigour tries;
As thy correcting hand refines,
Bright scenes around him rise.

III

Thy touch brings the wish'd stone to pass,
So sought, so long foretold;
It turns polluted lead, or brass,
At once to purest gold.