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Poems

By Thomas Philipott

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A thankfull acknowledgement to those Benefactours that contributed to the re-edifying of Clare-Hall in Cambridge.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


37

A thankfull acknowledgement to those Benefactours that contributed to the re-edifying of Clare-Hall in Cambridge.

Should we entomb your benefits within
Vnthankfull silence, so deform'd a sin
No teares would expiate, we might seeme to be
Astonisht by some drowsie Lethargie,
Or blasted with some Apoplectique Fit,
VVhich had at once congeal'd both braine and wit;
VVe therefore to your Names devoutly pay
The tribute of our thanks, and would defray
Our debt in nobler coyne, could we but vie
In words, with our big thoughts, or amplifie
Our hands, as wide as we can do our soules;
But this in us our thriftie Fate controules:
For you have snatcht us from the Earth, where we
Lay wrapt up in our owne deformitie,
And have reduc'd a House that was become,
Both to it selfe and Founders name, a tomb,
And like th'Idæa of the Chaos, lay
Deform'd, and indigested by decay,
To shape and beauite, and do so prolong
Its fading lustre, it againe growes young,
Like wither'd Æson, so that now we trust,
Twill Phœnix-like revive from out its dust,
And grow into one Fabrick (though 'twas shrunk
Before into a scatter'd heap, and sunk
Almost beneath its ruines) to upbraid
The coldnesse of these times, which does invade
Each hand, and so benums it, that we see
It cannot open unto Charitie;
But to improve, and widen out each Name
Of yours, to such a spatious length of Fame,

38

They may survive, till time and they become
Both Tenants, and both Inmates to one tombe:
So that when Mauselæum's shrink to dust,
And Obelisques of Brasse disband with rust,
When Pyramids themselves dissolve, and lie
(Manger their height) low in obscuritie;
And all those swelling piles preceding time
Establisht, onely to blanch o're their crimes;
Or fortifie some name, against the rage
Of Fate, and the rude batteries of age
Shall be dispers'd to ashes, and be spent,
Clare-Hall shall be your lasting Monument.
And, though in other tombes youl'd shrink away,
And melt into corruption, and decay,
Your Fame this Charter to it selfe can give,
Within this Monument you'l ever live.