Classic Poem

As when some Injur'd Prince assumes disguise,
And strives to make his carriage sympathize,
Yet hath a great betraying meen and aire,
Which speaks him royall, 'spight of all his care:
So th'issues of thy soule can ne're be hid,
And the Sun's force may be as soon forbid,
As thine obscur'd; there is no shade so great
Through which it will not dart forth light and heat
Thus we discover thee by thy own day,
Against thy will snatching the cloud away.
Now the piece shines! and if we will not say
Parents can'souls, as tapers light, convey;
Yet we must grant thy soule transmitted here
In beams almost as lasting, and as cleare.
And that's our highest praise, for but thy mind,
Thy works could never a resemblance find
That mind whose search can Nature's secret hand
At one great stroke discover and command,
Which pierces times and things, before whose eys
Nor men, nor notions, dare put on disguise.
And were all Authors now as much forgot
As prosperous ignorance her Self could plot;
Had we the rich supplys of thy one brest,
The knowing world would never miss the rest.
Men did before from Learning take their fame,
But Learning's self is honour'd by thy name:
Thou study'st not belief to introduce
Of Noveltys, more fit for shew then use;
But think'st it nobler charity t'uphold
The credit and the beauty of the old:
And with one hand canst easily support
Learning and Law, a Temple and a Court.
And this secures me: for as we below,
Valleys from Hills, houses from Churches know,
But to their sight who stand extreamly high,
Those forms will have one flat equallity:
So from a lower soule I might well feare
A critique censure, when survey'd too neare;
But from Cratander, (who, above the best,
Lives in a height which levells all the rest,)
I may that royalty of soule expect,
That can at once both pardon and neglect
Thus I approach, and wanting wit and sence,
Let trepidation be my Reverence.