IT is not growing like a tree

    In bulk doth make man better be；

    Or standing¹ long an oak three hundred year

    To fall a log at last dry bald and sere²：

    A lily of a day

    Is fairer far in May

    Although it fall and die that night；

    It was the plant and flower of light.

    In small proportions we just beauties see；

    And in short measures life may perfect be.

    Call noble Lucius then for wine

    And let thy looks with gladness shine：

    Accept this garland plant it on thy head

    And think—nay know—thy Morison 's not dead.

    He leap'd the present age

    Possest with holy rage

    To see that bright eternal Day

    Of which we Priests and Poets say

    Such truths as we expect for happy men；

    And there he lives with memory—and Ben

    Jonson： who sung this of him ere he went

    Himself to rest

    Or tast a part of that full joy he meant

    To have exprest

    In this bright Asterism

    Where it were friendship's schism—

    Were not his Lucius long with us to tarry—

    To separate these twy

    Lights the Dioscuri

    And keep the one half from his Harry³.

    But fate doth so alternate the design

    Whilst that in Heav'n this light on earth must shine.

    And shine as you exalted⁴ are！

    Two names of friendship but one star：

    Of hearts the union： and those not by chance

    Made or indenture⁵ or leased out to advance

    The profits for a time.

    No pleasures vain did chime

    Of rimes or riots at your feasts

    Orgies of drink or feign'd protests；

    But simple love of greatness and of good

    That knits brave minds and manners more than blood.

    This made you first to know the Why

    You liked then after to apply

    That liking⁶ and approach so one the t'other

    Till either grew a portion of the other：

    Each stylèd by his end

    The copy of his friend.

    You lived to be the great surnames

    And titles by which all made claims

    Unto the Virtue—nothing perfect done

    But as a CARY or a MORISON.

    And such the force the fair example had

    As they that saw

    The good and durst not practise it were glad

    That such a law

    Was left yet to mankind

    Where they might read and find

    FRIENDSHIP indeed was written not in words

    And with the heart not pen

    Of two so early men

    Whose lines her rules were and records：

    Who ere the first down bloomèd on the chin

    Had sow'd these fruits and got the harvest in.

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