What needs my Shakespear for his honour'd Bones, <br />The labour of an age in piled Stones, <br />Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid <br />Under a Star-ypointing Pyramid? <br />Dear son of memory, great heir of Fame, <br />What need'st thou such weak witnes of thy name? <br />Thou in our wonder and astonishment <br />Hast built thy self a live-long Monument. <br />For whilst toth' shame of slow-endeavouring art, <br />Thy easie numbers flow, and that each heart <br />Hath from the leaves of thy unvalu'd Book, <br />Those Delphick lines with deep impression took <br />Then thou our fancy of it self bereaving, <br />Dost make us Marble with too much conceaving; <br />And so Sepulcher'd in such pomp dost lie, <br />That Kings for such a Tomb would wish to die.<br /><br />John Milton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-shakespear/
