Classic Poem

Upon Owld Char[les] Cotton who died in December 58

How Cottens it now Charles is dead?
All merry witt is Vanished
Nor can our Ile be sayd to be
Longer the Muses Nurcery
Room stole from Athens, we from them
The Lawrell Wreath and Diadem
'Wont Crown the Learned: Heer was One
In All the Arts Perfection
Not only merited the Bayes
But what All Science guave for Prayse
Him the Acuter Genius lent
A Hone to whett Accomplishment
To such a Sharpnes might infuse
A quicker strayn in Evry Muse
Rayse the two-hedded-Hill more high
Drayn the Castalion Fountain drye
Soe Rare and Eloquent His stile
Predominized in This Ile
But he is gon: we that remain
Noe other Comforts can retain
Than Those shall bring us to our rest
Wher He and All Good Soules are blest.