Silent and fad I walk about all day,
As fullen ghosts stalk speechlefs by
Where their hid treasures lie:

Alas! my treafure's gone, why do I stay?

IV.

He was my friend, the truest friend on earth;

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A ftrong and mighty influence join'd our birth:

Nor did we envy the most founding name

By Friendship giv'n of old to Fame.

None but his brethren he, and fifters, knew,.
Whom the kind youth preferr'd to me;

And ev'n in that we did agree,

For much above myself I lov'd them too.

V.

Say, for you faw us, ye Immortal Lights!.
How oft', unweary'd, have we spent the nights,
Till the Ledaan stars, fo fam'd for love, a

Wonder'd at us from above?

We spent them not in toys, in lufts, or wine,
But fearch of deep philofophy,

Wit, eloquence, and poetry;

.. 30

35

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Arts which I lov'd, for they, my Friend! were thine.

VI.

Ye Fields of Cambridge! our dear Cambridge! fay,

Have ye not feen us walking ev'ry day?

Was there a tree about which did not know
The love betwixt us two?

Henceforth, ye gentle Trees! for ever fade,
Or your fad branches thicker join,
And into darkfome shades combine,

Dark as the grave wherein my friend is laid.
VII.

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Henceforth no learned youths beneath you fing,
Till all the tuneful birds t' your boughs they bring;
No tuneful birds play with their wonted cheer,
And call the learned youths to hear;

No whistling winds thro' the glad branches fly,
But all, with fad folemnity,

Mute and unmoved be,

Mute as the grave wherein my friend does lie.

VIN.

To him my Muse made hafte with ev'ry train, Whilst it was new, and warm yet from the brain. He lov'd my worthless rhymes, and, like a friend, Would find out fomething to commend.

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Hence, now, my Mufe! thou canst not me delight; Be this my latest verse,

With which I now adorn his hearse,

And this my grief, without thy help, fhall write.

IX.

Had I a wreath of bays about my brow,

I fhould contemn that flour'shing honour now,
Condemn it to the fire, and joy to hear

It rage and crackle there.

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Instead of bays, crown with fad cypress me;
Cyprefs! which tombs does beautify:

Not Phoebus griev'd so much as I

For him, who firft was made that mournful tree.

X.

Large was his foul; as large a foul as e'er

Submitted to inform a body here:

High as the place 'twas shortly' in heav'n to have, 75

But low and humble as his grave:

So high, that all the Virtues there did come
As to the chiefest feat,

Confpicuous and great;

So low, that for me, too, it made a room.

XI.

He fcorn'd this bufy world below, and all
That we, mistaken mortals, pleasure call;
Was fill'd with inn'cent gallantry and truth,
Triumphant o'er the fins of youth.

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He, like the stars, to which he now is gone,
That shine with beams like flame,

Yet burn not with the fame,

Had all the light of youth, of the fire none.

XII.

Knowledge he only fought, and fo foon caught,
As if for him Knowledge had rather fought:
Nor did more learning ever crowded lie

In fuch a fhort mortality.

Whene'er the skilful youth discours'd or writ,

Still did the notions throng

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About his el'quent tongue,

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Nor could his ink flow fafter than his wit.

XIII.

So strong a wit did Nature to him frame,
As all things but his judgment overcame;
His judgment like the heav'nly moon did show,
Temp'ring that mighty fea below.

O had he liv'd in Learning's world, what bound
Would have been able to control:

His overpow'ring foul?.

We'ave loft in him arts that not yet are found.

XIV.

His mirth was the pure fp'rits of various wit,
Yet never did his God or friends forget;
And when deep talk and wisdom came in view,
Retir'd, and gave to them their due.

For the rich help of books he always took,
Tho' his own searching mind before

Was fo with notions written o'er,

As if wife Nature had made that her book.

XV.

So many virtues join'd in him, as we

Can scarce pick here and there in history:

More than old writers' practice e'er could reach, 115 As much as they could ever teach.

Thefe did Religion, Queen of virtues, fway,

And all their facred motions fteer,

Just like the first and highest sphere,

Which wheels about, and turns all heav'n one way.120

XVI.

With as much zeal, devotion, piety,

He always liv'd, as other faints do die.
Still with his foul fevere account he kept,
Weeping all debts out ere he flept:

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Wondrous young Man! why wert thou made fo good,
To be fnatch'd hence ere better understood?
Snatched before half of thee enough was seen!
Thou ripe, and yet thy life but green!

Nor could thy friends take their laft fad farewell,
But danger and infectious death

Maliciously seiz'd on that breath

Where life, fp'rit, pleasure, always us'd to dwell.

XVIII.

But happy thou, ta'en from this frantic age!
Where ign'rance and hypocrify does rage!
A fitter time for heav'n no foul e'er chofe,
The place now only free from those.

There 'mong the bless'd thou doft for ever shine,
And wherefoe'er thou cafts thy view

Upon that white and radiant crew,

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See'ft not a foul cloath'd with more light than thine