Classic Poem

T HEISE striking pleasing beams Fra: Beaumont threw
On noble Sydneys herse, reflect on you
My noble frend, whose touch I wonder how
Or that could scape, or you forbear till now
For your most knowing spirit is of kinn
To all best witts that are or ere haue been
Apollo, Hermes, every muse & grace
Smiling on Cliftons as on Beaumonts race
And would you not attract such things of force
[To you must flie, or flowe by Natures course]
As one smooth gentle flood another takes
(disdaining fellowship with ponds or lakes)
And with their siluer armes embracing grow
Till two to one, both names & natures goe.
So those rich soules of pure Promethean strain
Haue mutuall rellish each of others veine,
Prove it, and runne your fluent stile by this
Twill mixe, and we may call it yours or his,
In such an hope my feebler spring hir hands
Vplifts, for helpe, to passe theise barren sands
And find at length, a fairer way to meet
Your streams of worth, & witt, so full, so sweet
Then foule & puddle witts it striue in vaine
My cleare & natiue simplenesse to staine
Will all runne vnder ground, and mingling well
With Stix & Acheron, be fitt for hell.