Classic Poem

Myst then our Loves be short still? Must we choose
Not to enjoy? onely admire, and loose?
Must Axioms hence grow sadly understood,
And we thus see, 'Tis dangerous to be good?
So Bookes begunne are broken off, and we
Receive a fragment for an History;
And, as 'twere present wealth, what was but debt,
Lose that, of which we were not Owners yet;
But as in bookes, that want the closing line,
We onely can conjecture, and repine:
So must we heere too onely grieve, and guesse,
And by our fancy make, what's wanting, lesse.
Thus when rich webs are left unfinished,
The Spider doth supply them with her thred.
For tell me what addition can be wrought
To him, whose Youth was even the bound of thought;
Whose buddings did deserve the Robe, whiles we
In smoothnesse did the deeds of wrinckles see:
When his state-nonage might have beene thought fit,
To breake the custome, and allow'd to sit?
His actions veil'd his age, and could not stay
For that which we call ripenesse, and just day.
Others may waite the staffe, and the gray-haire,
And call that Wisedome, which is onely Feare,
Christen a coldnesse, temp'rance, and then boast
Full and Ripe Vertue, when all action's lost:
This is not to be noble, but be slacke:
A Stafford ne're was good by th' Almanacke.
He, who thus stayes the season, and expects,
Doth not gaine habits, but disguise defects.
Heere Nature outstrips Culture: He came try'd;
Strait of himself at first; not rectifi'd:
Manners so pleasing, and so handsome cast,
That still that overcame, that was shewne last:
All mindes were captiv'd thence, as if't had beene
The same to him, to have beene lov'd, and seene.
Had he not bin snatchd thus, what drive hearts now
Into his nets, would have driven Cities too:
For these his Essaies, which began to win,
Were but bright sparkes, which shew'd the Mine within,
Rude draughts unto the picture; things we may
Stile the first beames of the encreasing day;
Which did but onely great discoveries bring,
As outward coolenesse shewes the inward spring.
Had he then liv'd; Pow'r ne'r had been thought short
That could not Crush, taught only to support.
No Poor-mans Sighs had been the Lords Perfumes,
No Tenants Nakedness had hung his Rooms,
No Tears had sowr'd his wines, no tedious-Long-
Festivall-service been the Countri's wrong;
A Wretch's Famine had been no dish then,
Nor Greatness thought to eat no Beasts, but Men;
Nor had that been esteem'd a Politick Grace
When Sutors came to shew a serious Face;
Or when an humble Cosen did pass by,
Put saving Bus'ness in his frugall Eye;
Things of Injustice then and Potent Hate
Had not been done for th' profit of the State;
Nor had it been the Privilege of High Bloud
To back their Injuries with the Kingdoms good:
Servants and Engines had been two things then,
And difference made 'twixt Instruments and Men.
Nor were his actions, to content the sight,
Like Artists Pieces, plac'd in a good light,
That they might take at distance, and obtrude
Something unto the eye that might delude:
His deeds did all, most perfect then appeare,
When you observ'd, view'd close, and did stand neere.
For could there ought else spring from him, whose line
From which he sprung, was rule, & discipline,
Whose Vertues were as Bookes before him set,
So that they did instruct, who did beget,
Taught thence not to be powerfull, but know,
Shewing he was their blood by living so.
For, whereas some are by their bigge lippe knowne,
Others, b'imprinted, burning swords were showne:
So they by great deeds are, from which bright fame,
Engraves free reputation on their name:
These are their Native markes, and it hath bin
The Staffords lot, to have their signes within.
And though this firme Hereditary good,
Might boasted be, as flowing with the blood,
Yet he nere graspt this stay: But as those, who
Carry perfumes about them still, scarce doe
Themselves perceive them, though anothers sense
Sucke in th' exhaling odours: so he thence
Ne'r did perceive he carry'd this good smell,
But made new still by doing himselfe well.
T'embalme him then is vaine, where spreading fame
Supplies the want of spices; where the Name,
It selfe preserving, may for Ointments passe:
And he, still seene, lye coffind as in glasse.
Whiles thus his bud dims full flowres, and his sole
Beginning doth reproach anothers whole,
Comming so perfect up, that there must needes
Have beene found out new Titles for new deeds:
Though youth, and lawes forbid, which will not let
Statues be rais'd, or him stand Brasen: yet
Our mindes retaine this Royalty of Kings,
Not to be bound to time, but judge of things,
And worship, as they merit: there we doe
Place him at height, and he stands golden too.
A comfort, but not equall to the crosse,
A faire remainder, but not like the losse:
For he, that last pledge, being gone, we doe
Not onely lose the Heire but th' honour too.
Set we up then this boast against our wrong,
He left no other signe, that he was young:
And, spight of fate, his living vertues will,
Though he be dead, keepe up the Barony still.