Thou scornedst such laziness while here beneath,
And livedst that time which others only breathe.
6
How so small room could hold such excellence.
Nature was proud when she contrived thy frame,
In thee she laboured for a name:
Hence 'twas she lavished all her store,
As if she meant hereafter to be poor,
And, like a bankrupt, run o' th' score.
Her curious hand here drew in straits, and joined
All the perfections lodged in human kind;
Teaching her numerous gifts to lie
Cramped in a short epitome.
So stars contracted in a diamond shine,
And jewels in a narrow point confine
The riches of an Indian mine.
Thus subtle artists can
Draw nature's larger self within a span:
A small frame holds the world, earth, heavens and all
Shrunk to the scant dimensions of a ball.
7
But some uncommon excellence foretell,
Like stars, did all constellate here,
And met together in one sphere.
Thy judgment, wit and memory conspired
To make themselves and thee admired;
And could thy growing height a longer stay have known,
Thou hadst all other glories, and thyself out-done.
While some to knowledge by degrees arrive,
Through tedious industry improved,
Thine scorned by such pedantic rules to thrive,
But swift as that of angels moved,
And made us think it was intuitive.
Thy pregnant mind ne'er struggled in its birth,
But quick, and while it did conceive, brought forth;
