Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to

show

To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.
He was not of an age, but for all time!
And all the Muses still were in their prime,
When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm
Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm. 46
Nature herself was proud of his designs
And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines,
Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit:
The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,
Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not
please,

55

But antiquated and deserted lie,
As they were not of Nature's family.
Yet must I not give Nature all; thy art,
My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part:
For though the poet's matter nature be,
His art doth give the fashion; and that he1
Who casts2 to write a living line must
sweat,

(Such as thine are) and strike the second heat

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They all consented,

But viewing him since, alas, too late! They have repented;

15

20

GO AND CATCH A FALLING STAR

Go and catch a falling star,

Get with child a mandrake root, Tell me where all past years are, Or who cleft the Devil's foot;