Or that his hallowed relics should be hid
Under a starry pointing pyramid?
Dear son of memory, great heir of fame,
What needs’t 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,
The easy numbers flow; and that each heart
Hath, from the leaves of thy unvalued book,
Those Delphic lines with deep impression took,