Farewell, too little and too lately known, <br />Whom I began to think and call my own; <br />For sure our souls were near allied, and thine <br />Cast in the same poetic mould with mine. <br />One common note on either lyre did strike, <br />And knaves and fools we both abhorred alike. <br />To the same goal did both our studies drive; <br />The last set out the soonest did arrive. <br />Thus Nisus fell upon the slippery place, <br />While his young friend performed and won the race. <br />O early ripe! to thy abundant store <br />What could advancing age have added more? <br />It might (what Nature never gives the young) <br />Have taught the numbers of thy native tongue. <br />But satire needs not those, and wit will shine <br />Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line. <br />A noble error, and but seldom made, <br />When poets are by too much force betrayed. <br />Thy generous fruits, though gathered ere their prime, <br />Still showed a quickness; and maturing time <br />But mellows what we write to the dull sweets of rhyme. <br />Once more, hail and farewell! farewell, thou young, <br />But ah too short, Marcellus of our tongue! <br />Thy brows with ivy and with laurels bound; <br />But fate and gloomy night encompass thee around.<br /><br />John Dryden<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-memory-of-mr-oldham/
