Poetry of Milton

John Milton
born 1608, died 1674

An Epitaph
On the Admirable Dramatic Poet, William Shakspeare

What needs my Shakspeare for his honoured bones,
The labour of an age in piled stones?
Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid
Under a star-ypointing pyramid?
Dear son of memory, great heir of fame,
What needst thou such weak witness of thy name?
Thou, in our wonder and astonishment,
Hast built thyself a livelong monument.
For whilst, to the shame of slow-endeavouring art,
Thy easy numbers flow; and that each heart
Hath, from the leaves of thy unvalued book,
Those Delphic lines with deep impression took;
Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving
Dost make us marble with too much conceiving;
And, so sepúlchered, in such pomp dost lie,
That kings, for such a tomb, would wish to die.

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An Epitaph On the Admirable Dramatic Poet, William Shakspeare

An Epitaph
On the Admirable Dramatic Poet, William Shakspeare