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TO Sir William Davenant, IN ANSWER TO THE Seventh Canto OF THE THIRD BOOK OF HIS GONDIBERT, Dedicated to my Father.
 


4

TO Sir William Davenant, IN ANSWER TO THE Seventh Canto OF THE THIRD BOOK OF HIS GONDIBERT, Dedicated to my Father.

O happy Fire, whose Heat can thus controul
The Rust of Age, & thaw the Frost of Death;
That renders Man immortal, as his Soul.
And swells his Fame with everlasting Breath.

6

Happy that hand, that unto Honours climb;
Can lift the Subject of his living Praise;
That rescues Frailty from the Scyth of Time,
And equals Glory to the length of Days.
Such, Sir, in you, who uncontroul'd, as Fate
In the Black Bosom of Oblivions Night;
Can Suns of Immortality create,
To dazle Envy with prevailing Light.
In vain they strive your glorious Lamp to hide
In this dark Lanthorn, to all Noble Minds;
Which through the smallest cranny is descry'd,
Whose Force united, no resistance finds.
Blest be my Father, who has found his Name
Among the Heroes, by your Pen reviv'd;
By Running in Times Wheel, his thriving Fame
Shall still more youthful grow, and longer liv'd.

7

Had Alexander's Trophies thus been rear'd,
And in the Circle of your Story come;
The spacious Orb full well he might have spar'd,
And reapt his distant Victories at home.
Let men of greater Wealth than Merit, cast
Medals of Gold for their succeeding part;
That Paper Monument shall longer last,
Than all the Rubbish of decaying Art.