To the Same (T. S.), on His Poems and Translations

If what we know be made our selves, (for by
Dev•sting all materiality,
And melting the bare species into
Our intellect; Our selves are what we know)
Thou art in largenesse of thy knowing mind
As a Seraphick essence unconfind,
Content within those narrow walls to dwell,
Yet canst so far that point of flesh outswell
That thine intelligence extends through all
Languages which we Europaean call.
What Colossaean strides dost thou enlarge!
Fixing one foot in Sequan's watry barge
Dost in Po t'other lave, teaching each Swan
A note more dying then their Idiom can:
Vext Tagus Nympths receive of thee new dresses,
Composing in Thame's glasse their golden tresses:
Yea more I've seen thy young Muse bath her wing
In the deep waters of Stagira's Spring.
Nor do thy beames warm by reflex alone;
Those that emerge directly from the Sun
Of thy rich Fancy, warm our loves, as well
As those whom other Languages repell;
Thou the divine acts thus dost imitate,
As well conserve an Author, as create.

On then brave youth, Learnings full Systeme; Go
Enlarge thy selfe to a vast Folio;
That the world in suspence where to bestow
That admiration which it late did ow
To the large knowing Belgick Magazine [H. Grot]
May justly pay it thee as his assigne:
If future houres with laden thighes shall strive
To fill as well thine intellectuall hive
As those are past, the Court of Honour must
To Crown thee, ravish Garlands from his dust.