Death Ends Our Woes, And The Kind

Fame Then Was Cheap, And The First Comer Sped; And They Have Kept It Since By Being Dead.

Ev'n Wit's A Burthen, When It Talks Too Long.

Three Poets, In Three Distant Ages Born, Greece, Italy, And England Did Adorn. The First In Loftiness Of Thought Surpass'd; The Next, In Majesty; In Both The Last. The Force Of Nature Could No Further Go; To Make A Third, She Join'd The Former Two.

Trust Reposed In Noble Natures Obliges Them The More.

Thus, While The Mute Creation Downward Bend Their Sight, And To Their Earthly Mother Ten, Man Looks Aloft; And With Erected Eyes Beholds His Own Hereditary Skies.