John Denham (1615 – 1669)
Poet, son of the Chief Baron of Exchequer in Ireland, was born in Dublin, and educated at Trinity College, Oxford and at Lincoln's Inn in London.
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Books should to one of these four ends conduce,
For wisdom, piety, delight, or use.
Youth, what man's age is like to be doth show,
We may our ends by our beginnings know.
Nor ought a genius less than his that writ
Attempt translation.
Such is our pride, our folly, or our fate,
That few but such as cannot write, translate.
Though with those streams he no resemblance hold,
Whose foam is amber and their gravel gold;
His genuine and less guilty wealth t' explore,
Search not his bottom, but survey his shore.
Ambition is like love, impatient
Both of delays and rivals.
Actions o' th' last age are like almanacks o' th' last year.
But whither am I strayed? I need not raise
Trophies to thee from other men's dispraise;
Nor is thy fame on lesser ruins built;
Nor needs thy juster title the foul guilt
Of Eastern kings, who, to secure their reign,
Must have their brothers, sons, and kindred slain.
Oh, could I flow like thee, and make thy stream
My great example, as it is my theme!
Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull;
Strong without rage; without o'erflowing, full.
Search not to find what lies too deeply hid,
Nor to know things, whose knowledge is forbid.
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