 | Poems |  |
76
On M. Halls Essayes.
Wits that matur'd by time have courted praise,Shall see their works outdone in these Essayes;
And blush to know, thy earlier years display
A dawning, clearer then their brightest day.
Yet I'le not praise thee, for thou hast outgrown
The reach of all mens praises, but thine own.
Encomiums to their objects are exact;
To praise and not at full is to detract.
And with most justice are the best forgot,
For praise is bounded when the Theam is not:
Since mine is thus confin'd, and far below
Thy merit, I forbear it, nor will show
How poor th' Autumnal Pride of some appears,
To the ripe fruit thy vernal season bears.
Yet though I mean no praise, I come t'invite
Thy forward Aims still to advance their flight;
Rise higher yet, what though thy spreading wreath
Lessen to their dull sight who stay beneath?
To thy full Learning how can all allow
Just praise, unless that all were learn'd as thou?
Go on in spight of such low souls, and may
Thy growing worth know Age, though not decay:
Till thou pay back thy theft; and live to climbe
As many years as thou hast snatch'd from Time.
| Poems | |