What mean dull souls in this high measure To haberdash In earth’s base wares, whose greatest treasure Is dross and trash; 40 The height of whose enchanting pleasure Is but a flash? Are these the goods that thou suppliest Us mortals with? Are these the highest? 44 Can these bring cordial peace? False world, thou liest. _Francis Quarles._ CXIII _TO THE MEMORY OF MR. OLDHAM._ Farewell, too little and too lately known, Whom I began to think, and call my own; For sure our souls were near allied, and thine Cast in the same poetic mould with mine. One common note on either lyre did strike, 5 And knaves and fools we both abhorred 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 performed, and won the race. 10 Oh 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 betrayed; Thy generous fruits, though gathered ere their prime, Still showed 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 _John Dryden._ CXIV _AN EPITAPH ON THE EXCELLENT COUNTESS OF HUNTINGDON._ The chief perfection of both sexes joined, With neither’s vice nor vanity combined; Of this our age the wonder, love, and care, The example of the following, and despair; Such beauty, that from all hearts love must flow, 5 Such majesty, that none durst tell her so; A wisdom of so large and potent sway, Rome’s Senate might have wished, her Conclave may: Which did to earthly thoughts so seldom bow, Alive she scarce was less in heaven than now; 10 So void of the least pride, to her alone These radiant excellencies seemed unknown; Such once there was; but let thy grief appear, Reader, there is not: Huntingdon lies here. _Lord Falkland._ CXV _A PAGAN EPITAPH._ In this marble buried lies Beauty may enrich the skies, And add light to Phœbus’ eyes; Sweeter than Aurora’s air, When she paints the lilies fair, 5 And gilds cowslips with her hair;