On Mr. Waller

Though I can add but little to his name, Whose Muse hath given him such immortal fame; Yet, in the crowd of those who dress his hearse, I come to pay the tribute of a verse.

Athens and Rome, when learning flourish'd most, Could never such a finish'd poet boast: Whose matchless softness in the English tongue Out-does what Horace, or Anacreon, sung. Judgment does some to reputation raise; And for invention others wear the bays: He possess'd both, with such a talent still, As shew'd, not only force of wit, but skill. So faultless was his Muse, 'tis hard to know If he did more to art or nature owe. Read where you will, he's musick all along, And his sense easy, as his thought is strong. Some, striving to be clear, fall flat and low; And, when they think to mount, obscure they grow. He is not darker for his lofty flight; Nor does his easiness depress his height; But still perspicuous, where-soe'er he fly, And, like the sun, is brightest when he's high. Ladies admire, and taste his gentle vein, Which does the greatest statesmen entertain. His verses do all sorts of readers warm, Philosophers instruct, and women charm. Nor did he all men in his verse out-do, But gave the law in conversation too: He tun'd the company where-e'er he came, Still leaving with them something of his flame. He seem'd by nature made for every thing, And could harangue, and talk, as well as sing; Persuade in council, and assemblies lead; Now make them bold, and then as much afraid: Give them his passions, make them of his mind; And their opinion change, as he inclin'd. The English he hath to perfection brought; And we to speak are by his measures taught. Those very words which are in fashion now, He brought in credit half an age ago. Thus Petrarch mended the Italian tongue; And now they speak the language which he sung. They both like honour to their countries do; Their saints they both inimitably woo. They both alike eternity do give: And Sacharissa shall with Laura live.